RWBY: Rise of Roman
by Nevermourned
Summary: Roman Torchwick is one of the greatest criminal masterminds Remnant has ever seen, according to him at least. Despite this, he is second banana to Cinder Fall, working beneath her to accomplish her goals. However, when Cinder's grand plan is a little too... successful for her own good, Roman suddenly finds himself without a boss... and a world just ripe for the taking. (Now an AU)
1. Chapter 1: All According To Plan

(This is a not-for-profit fan made work. I do not own RWBY, that is owned by RoosterTeeth and likely by the family and friends of Monty Oum, may he rest in peace. I probably own my O.C., however I'd have to double-check copyright law to confirm that.

Now, due to the very kind actions of one "Katzel" on Deviant Art, I have cover-art for my fanfiction. Katzel went to the trouble to create an entirely new picture with this fanfiction in mind and I am extremely flattered and impressed by the picture. Links to both Katzel's Deviant Art account and the specific picture, titled Roman and Neo 03 on Deviant Art, can be found on my profile. Thank you very much to Katzel for making such an awesome picture, and now, without further ado, let us proceed with the story.)

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Roman Torchwick was agitated. Yes, yes that was the word for it. Agitated. Perhaps, even highly agitated. In fact if one was feeling bold, one might even go so far as to say that he was agitated enough to KLL THAT ARROGANT LITTLE BLACK HAIRED FIRE WITCH AND BOTH OF HER SIMPERING PET URCHIN BRATS! … Yeah… yeah he was at that third one by now.

It wasn't that he hadn't expected to run into a bit of difficulty during this particularly stressful criminal enterprise. He had come to anticipate a certain degree of backlash and setback with every operation, and most of the ventures he'd overseen as of recent were especially high-risk. On top of that he'd run into those brats from Beacon… what three, four times by now? Did the first time with that little Red nuisance count? Whatever, the point was that meeting Red and her band of miscreants had become such a common occurrence that he wasn't exactly surprised when she and her pet pest squad had shown up to derail his latest scheme, almost literally. Annoyed, oh most certainly, but not surprised.

He wasn't even all that upset when he got 'caught' by Cinder's street-rat fangirl and kick-happy psychopath. Apparently his getting captured by Atlas was also part of Cinder's "Grand Master Plan" the one she kept not telling him about to be specific, and she fully intended to break him out while he was still on General Ironwood's oh so very impressively oversized airship. In sum, this was all going according to her design despite the interruption from juvenile would-be do-gooders, and he had nothing to worry about.

Well maybe he didn't have anything to worry about, but he had PLENTY to gripe about. For example, while being in a cell wasn't exactly a new experience for him this was a cell on a military ship, not his more typical residence in casa'la VPD holding. It was cramped like he could not BELIEVE, dark, and he was surrounded on all sides by hard stiff metal without even the suspiciously dirty and foul-smelling cot that he'd usually get. So whether this was an improvement or not was a grey area, but still, it was really uncomfortable, murder on his back, not to mention his finely sculpted tush. And they'd taken his HAT! Really!? Was that ENTIRELY necessary!? Honestly, he tells them to watch it and in response they 'take it away for observation?!' Oh ha ha! The imbeciles, did they have any idea how hard quality headwear was to come by?!

But he could actually forgive both of those things… well, not forgive exactly, but put to the back of his mind for future vengeance at a convenient date and time which was much, much more satisfying. But, he could deal with the abhorrently cramped conditions and lack of his favorite bowler hat for a few days without swearing eternal vengeance and thinking about killing his boss, something that could and would only happen in the realm of thought. No, comfort and his love of fine dress were things he could do without for as long as necessary… What he couldn't go without for any goodly length of time, what he was far less likely to forgive, and what he was going to kill the soldiers outside his cell, General Ironwood, and think very strongly about killing Cinder's brats if not her over, was the simple fact that they'd TAKEN HIS CIGARS!

Roman was an Ash Dust addict. For good or more likely ill, it was simply the truth. And when he did not get his fix of the highly addictive powerfully flavored substance, he was understandably PEEVED! And as a man with an already easily ignitable temper, the effects of additionally inflaming said temper could be truly terrifying, as anyone who had worked for Roman ever could attest to. And the soldiers of Atlas had DEFINITELY inflamed said temper. After all, those weren't just any cigars with the drug-like substance, oh no, they were his favored 'Pumpkin Blend', imported at great personal expense from Vacuo, those cigars being one of the only things worthwhile to come from that backwater excuse for a Kingdom. So, to recap, he was in a cramped cell, with a critical part of his well put together ensemble missing, and he did not have his very important, very specific blend of cigars… FOR DAYS… … He was ready to kill anyone and everyone who happened to enter into his train of thought, much less sight.

Torchwick sighed, bringing his right hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb, his left elbow resting on his left knee as he took a deep breath in, and then out slowly. These kinds of thoughts wouldn't get him anywhere, wouldn't even help him cope with his steadily mounting aggravation. The choice to not give him his drug was likely a deliberate move on the General's part to help wear him down, then Ironwood could present it as a bribe to obtain his cooperation. Of course Roman could only speculate on that, as he hadn't even seen Ironwood since he first spoke with him after his capture. A bit odd come to think of it. Roman guessed that setting up security for the Vytal Festival was stressful work, keeping his dear friendly General occupied like that instead of coming over for a visit…

The incredibly stressed criminal mastermind gritted his teeth and growled low in his throat, opening the one eye he actually used to see with and glowering at the floor below, as his aggravation flared up again, and the hints of another in a long series of headaches began to form at the front of his skull.

"I swear if Cinder doesn't break me out of here soon I'm going to strangle BOTH those pet brats of hers, see how smug she is then!" He growled out. And just after he did so, a-

SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!

SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!

SKKKKRRREEEEEEEE!

Filled the ship. Piercing klaxons, practically drilling into his ears, accompanied by flashing deep red lights. He supposed that those were in case any of Atlas's finest combat ready soldiers happened to be hearing impaired, because no creature alive would be able to miss those INSUFFERABLY loud alarms. Moving his hands up to his ears to fight back against the painful blaring, Roman nonetheless smirked with a cocky and amused glint in his eye.

"Well, speak of the she-devil and she shall appear." He spoke pleasantly, barely able to hear himself due to the noise but still feeling compelled to call Cinder a she-devil out loud. Despite this, he was in a good mood again and no longer thinking about slaughtering her pet psychopaths. After all, those accursed sirens most likely meant that she'd proceeded to her 'phase three' and was breaking onto the ship to get him out. The alarm's wail hailed his coming sweet release, and just the thought that he'd soon be out of this accursed cell and back with his favorite cigars, Melodic Cudgel, stylish hat, and smacking around some of the Atlas clods that separated him from his beloveds, was more than enough to fill him with glee…

… … … … For about ten minutes. Then that feeling slowly but surely began to go away… It devolved into annoyance as the twenty minute mark of siren blaring but no Cinder was reached… and then turned into frustration at thirty… and into actual anger at forty. An HOUR later, the alarms CONTINUING To blare long after they started, Roman was practically grinding his teeth, eye wide with rage, hands pressed tightly over his ears.

HOW MUCH LONGER WAS SHE GOING TO MAKE HIM WAIT!? HIS EARS COULD ONLY TAKE SO MUCH OF THIS TORTURE! He internally screamed and shouted, ranting in his head as his arms ached from being in the same position for an hour and a migraine from the alarm and drug deprivation both pounded in his skull. Fortunately for Roman fate, luck, or some greater power that had decided the criminal's torment had gone on long enough for now, saw the alarms stop shortly after the hour mark had passed. The flashing red lights, which Roman was sure were some sort of seizure hazard and/or a manifestation of Ironwood's true internal sadism, ceased with the alarms, and all was quiet.

At least quiet to Roman who couldn't very well hear after all of that noise. His ears were still ringing, curse this Atlas engineering, probably put a speaker right in his cell or something so it'd sound extra loud. Muttering to himself, Roman moved his right gloved hand up to his right ear and started to dig into it with his gloved pinkie, mainly to get the ringing out of his ears. Still, he was back to smirking. After all, now that the alarms were off Cinder had probably taken the bridge, and she and her team were moving through the ship, on her way to come get him so she could put him to use.

But as time passed again, only five minutes this time, with the cessation of the alarms and once again no Cinder or annoying Cinder brats coming to his cell, he started to worry. His brow furrowed and his hands gripped his knees as the ringing in his ears faded naturally, his good eye staring at the door through the dark. … Had… had Cinder FAILED to take the ship? No, no she couldn't have. Cinder was one of the strongest fighters in the world. Better than him, unfortunately, better than her brats, certainly, better than Beacon's brats, definitely, and even better than Neo who Roman KNEW was as deadly as she was psychotic. There was no way she'd lose to Atlas's pathetic soldiers and their General… would she?

Roman bit his bottom lip. Doubt began to worm its way into his heart, and as it began to take hold and fester within his chest the sound of 'Tap' 'Tap' 'Tap' could be heard, faintly, outside of Roman's cell. Footsteps, of someone coming for him most likely. But they weren't the 'clink-clink-clink' of Cinder's glass heels. Nor were they the 'thud-thud-thud' of Atlas soldiers in their marching boots. Roman didn't know WHO was making that sound, and immediately began to think of all the possible culprits. Red and her rather uninteresting footwear? That cat-girl, Blake was it? No, she was far too quiet for those footsteps. It could be that brat Emerald, not Mercury though his steps would be heavier with his weapon boots. Someone else that Roman hadn't met yet?

Roman didn't know. So far nothing had progressed as he'd thought it would, so as the 'tap' sound came closer to his door he breathed in and out a little faster, sweat starting to form on his skin as he looked to the door. The sound of a 'Beep' 'Beep' 'Beep' 'Beep', as numbers to his cell code started to get punched in only made him more anxious… But like heck he was going to show it.

Roman straightened up, rolled his shoulders back, cracked his head side to side, and narrowed his eye at the door, calming and slowing his breath, making sure he was as loose as possible. As the last of the numbers got punched in, and accepted with a longer 'BEEEP', Roman smirked and let his eye take a cocky bend, sure to display confidence, even if he didn't feel it. Depending on who opened that door Roman was either in for a very good day, or a very bad one. And he intended to be ready for either, never letting friend or foe see him sweat.

So poised, ready, and with his body as relaxed as he could make it, he watched as the door 'slid' open and light flooded into his room. He didn't count on the transition from dark to light affecting him that much, especially with the recent flashing red, so probably lost a few of his style points when he blinked rapidly and had to furrow his brow to get his eye used to the illumination. But after a few moments he was able to see the figure beyond the door clearly, able to fully make out the individual's features and-

"… … … I'm sorry… WHO are you?" Asked Roman almost incredulously as his eyebrow raised.

In front of him was a lean young man, maybe twenty years old, with very light skin, bright white hair, a single black streak running through said hair from the middle to the bangs above his right eyebrow, and slightly dulled white eyes. He was wearing a finely tailored tuxedo suit, black, with a black dress shirt underneath, and a bright white tie. There were white gloves on his hands and black dress shoes on his feet, dancing shoes actually now that Roman got a better look at them, with white soles. On top of his head was a black fedora, very much like the ones worn by Junior's men, though with a white band circling it instead of a red. Actually, as Roman came to think of it, aside from the color changes and the lack of sunglasses, this interloper dressed very much like one of the thugs he'd hired from Junior's Club. Only… well, sleeker, wearing the clothes better, and holding himself with a good deal more poise than they had.

The young man for his part was standing in the doorway, his left arm just beyond it, out of Roman's sight, right hand down at his side, and his body standing straight and calm as he looked down to Roman. His stark gazers moved up and down, looking over the figure of Vale's resident criminal mastermind, seeming to evaluate him. After a moment, this unknown figure cocked his head to the right slightly, bringing his eyes up to meet Roman's singular visible orb, before speaking.

"Susie Diamonds. Or Susan if you'd prefer. I like the color pink, cute boys, and long walks on the beach beneath the pale light of the broken moon." He responded simply, his voice pleasant enough to listen to with its natural cadence, rather level at the moment… though the DRIPPING and obvious sarcasm somewhat colored it.

"Who are YOU?" He asked, stressing the last word as his right eyebrow raised slightly, and his entire body seemed to 'tilt' to the right for a moment, revealing his left arm before the elbow, the whole of the forearm and hand still hidden behind. Roman's one good eye had narrowed into a glare at the young man's free embrace of sarcasm. But more importantly, moved to his partially revealed left arm, looking at it for a moment as he changed his focus… This sarcastic brat was hiding something, maybe a gun. He might have been here to off him. But then again, if Roman was an assassin and unsure of his target, he'd just kill everyone he came across in the cells for thoroughness sake. Still, he might just be trying to confirm identity before prepping to kill… Roman needed to be ready in case this kid was here to end his dashing and utterly magnificent existence.

However Roman didn't show his thought process, didn't show that he even considered the possibility that this black-suited kid could be a threat to him. Instead he gave a cocky grin and leaned back, raising his hands from his knees palm up with a, 'really' look to his eye and proceeded to vocalize the look.

"Really kid? Those peepers of yours blind? Cause I've been on the top of the VPD wanted list for months now, my face's been plastered all over town! If you haven't seen this devilish mug, you just haven't been paying attention." He spoke, smirking wider as he leaned forward, his hands moving to his knees again. The male at the door raised his right eyebrow a little further, but didn't seem to react otherwise.

"I've been living under a rock actually. It's very uncomfortable, I don't recommend it." He stated dryly, keeping his expression unchanging.

"Now at the risk of sounding repetitive, please… who are you?" He asked, a little more politely this time. Roman blinked… then let out an exasperated sigh, rolling his eye and leaning back.

"Fine fine, the name's Roman Torchwick. That ring a bell? Of course it does. Well sorry, I don't do autographs. Though if you get me out of this cell, I'll consider making an exception." He spoke, raising his right hand up and pointing back with his thumb to the cell in question.

"Hm. Guess it's my lucky day then." Stated the young man, still dry as ever, moving his left arm from behind the door and… somehow managing to keep his tilt. But that was less important to Roman than what his left gloved hand had been holding, namely, Melodic Cudgel with Roman's prized bowler hat placed neatly on top of the handle.

Roman actually blinked, slightly surprised as the young man offered it forward. While offering the criminal mastermind his standard apparel and weapon, the newcomer also moved his right hand up to his own fedora and plucked it from his head, before bringing it down to his chest and placing it over his heart.

"Allow me to reintroduce myself. My name is Alabaster Flatly. And I have been hired by one Miss Neopolitan to see to your escape. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mister Torchwick, and I am at your service." He spoke, bowing his head forward slightly, sarcasm fully replaced with manners. Roman blinked again, then shook his head a bit and smirked, for real this time, standing up and reaching with his right hand to take his beloved weapon cane from this Alabaster's hand.

"Well it's about time!" He spoke with jubilation, most of his vexation now replaced with a mixture of relief and pleasure as he took his bowler hat from the top of the Melodic Cudgel and placed it atop his head, standing up to get out as Alabaster 'leaned' back, and stepped away, letting Roman extricate himself from the cell. As Roman exited the cramped conditions, he almost immediately stood straight and leaned back, moving his left hand to his spine as he raised his right high up, pointing his cane to the ceiling as he let out an audible-

"Aaahhh, ahhh, aaaah." of relief, stretching his muscles.

"Ahhhhhh yes! In the name of DUST that feels good…" he muttered, lowering his arms and shaking them out slightly, then turning his head side to side as he loosened up his neck to, just savoring his sudden ability to move in a space more than a few feet wide.

"Agh, mm, there we go, oh that hits the spot, the only thing that could make this better is-" Started Roman, before stopping as he turned his head to see Alabaster holding out a cigar… one of his SPECIAL, pumpkin blend cigars, in his right hand, bowing forward slightly to present it to the crime lord. Roman blinked, then slowly moved his Melodic Cudgel into his left hand, and reached with his right to take the cigar from Alabaster's fingers. With the physical contact assuring him that it was real, he moved it up to his lips and placed it between.

As he did so Alabaster stepped forward, brought his left hand around, and calmly held up Roman's lighter, moving his thumb to 'FLICK' it open and lit, letting the orange flame come up to touch the end of Roman's cigar. Roman closed his eye as the fire lit the end of his drug of choice, letting him taste the flavor, savor the Ash as it began to drift into his being and out from the end, helping to empower his Aura… Once the cigar was lit, Alabaster calmly 'FLICK'-ed it closed, and then offered it, palm-up to Roman. It didn't take Roman a moment to snatch his lighter out of Alabaster's hand, and just hold it for a moment, staring at his treasured lighter… before looking back up to Alabaster.

"… Well, as first impressions go, this is the best one I've had in a while now." He spoke, nodding his ascent as he moved the lighter down into his pockets, sucking on the end of his cigar and rolling it to the left side of his mouth, taking in its flavor… OH that was good. Alabaster smirked a bit at the positive reception, then stepped back, before letting his face go neutral.

"I'm glad you think so. Now pardon my presumption, however it would be best to exit this area and make our way to the bridge." He stated simply starting to turn to walk away before Roman quickly THREW his right hand up, palm out in a stop pattern, and rapidly spoke-

"Whoa whoa whoa there, hold your horses there Al." Causing Alabaster's right eye to 'twitch' slightly at the word 'Al' as Roman moved his right hand back down, turning to face this suited character with his cane in his left hand, leaning on it as he looked up at his deliverer.

"Look kid, I'm grateful for the early release and all, but I'm not exactly going anywhere until someone tells me what the HECK is going on!? Where's Cinder? Or where's Neo for that matter, why'd she need to hire you? And where are the guards, actually, not seeing many bodies here whitey want to explain how you got to me so easily?" He asked, gesturing about with his right hand to indicate the lack of Atlas soldiers, conscious or otherwise.

Alabaster raised his right eyebrow slightly as Roman tied up his questioning spiel.

"I have no idea who Cinder is." He stated succinctly, causing Roman to blink in surprise and then furrow his own brows in return… Neo… hired someone without Cinder's go ahead? What the f-

"As for Miss Neopolitan, she didn't give me her reasoning. She simple gave me my objective, promised payment, and transported me onto the ship. Afterwards she left, and I do not know where or why… She doesn't exactly talk much." Spoke Alabaster, still succinctly and politely, before turning his gaze over towards the large window at the end of the cell hallway.

"However, as to the matter of the soldiers, or lack thereof…" he spoke, before letting the sentence peter off and raising his right hand gesture, palm up, towards the window. Roman looked at it with a raised eyebrow, then back to him, then back to the window with a-

"Ugh." Of annoyance, and turned to start grumpily walking over towards the window, putting a good deal of weight on his cane since his legs were still sore. Why couldn't the man just answer a simple question instead of being all cryptic and making him walk for the answer?! Was it that hard to say 'hey, they all decided to go get drunk at the local bar' or 'they took a holiday for the Vytal festival' or something? As Roman internally grumbled and got closer to the glass, eye glaring towards the window to see what the pale brat had motioned for him to see, his pace slowed… and then slowed some more… and finally he stopped altogether, as he came to be standing in front of the window to the outside world, staring out, with his mouth slightly opened and eye wide.

Vale was on fire. Smoke rose up in plumes. A line of giant, elephant-like Goliath Grimm walked through the city, roaring and trumpeting as they pounded the works of man beneath their feet. Colored explosions of dust, ice magic and fire, wind and lightning, shown as tiny bursting specks of light throughout the city as a battle raged far below the airship, black dots swarming wherever the smoke didn't block, new fires breaking out all over the city…

"They're a bit busy at the moment." Finished Alabaster, walking up calmly to stand slightly over Roman's right shoulder, looking down to the scene below as well. As he finished, a pair of Atlesian gunships flew into sight some distance away from the window, weapons pointed down and firing fast, cylindrical barrels rotating as they hurled flaring tracer-lined bullets onto the Grimm below. A moment later, a-

"SSSCCCRRRAAAAWWWWW!" was heard, as a Giant Nevermore SMASHED through them both at once, sending the gunships hurtling out of the sky, torn apart, one bursting into flames on the way down as the Giant Nevermore rose up and out of sight, victorious in its pursuit of destruction, and searching for more prey to annihilate.

"Welcome to the new world Mister Torchwick. I hope it suits your tastes." Continued Alabaster calmly, seemingly unphased by the events playing out in front of him. Roman Torchwick's jaw widened slightly. His cigar fell out and hit the floor, end snuffing out as the ash spilled on the ground, and an entire Kingdom died below…


	2. Chapter 2: Exposition and Explanation

(I actually began writing this a good deal before I saw past Season 3 episode 6. Not a surprise I think, considering how much later I published this chapter after the first. The reason why I stopped on that episode for a bit, besides just them waiting for a while to continue the series if I remember correctly, was… well, feels. Lots of them… Episode 7 didn't exactly help much in that regard… and the less said of 9 the better and… well, everything that came after that to… let's face it, it's been a pretty dark season.

Ahem… regardless, while I didn't get everything right, and this story will continue in what is now officially an alternate universe where numerous details have changed from the canon events to go more along the lines of my original intetnion for the story, I believe that I guessed enough of what occurred to have the right to say this. I freaking CALLED IT. Also, some of Roman's thoughts and feelings have been changed, back to that changing some canon details thing. Considering what happens with him though that's… probably for the best…

Well… now with that little bit of bragging and explanation out of the way, here's an overdue chapter. Hope you enjoy!)

* * *

Roman Torchwick was silent. If the nearby Alabaster had known him better he would have realized that this was an event just as rare as the ending of the world, and would have taken out his scroll to record Roman's lack of commentary for posterity. Instead the well-dressed hireling simply waited calmly, standing slightly back and over Roman's right shoulder, and watched the crime lord witness Vale burn.

"…"

"…"

"… What…" Sounded Roman quietly. Alabaster raised his right eyebrow in question, as Roman continued to look down at the violent scene below, fires and explosions visible even from this distance, to say nothing of the massive Grimm Goliaths.

"What. The. FUUUUUUCK!?" Roman practically screamed. Very. Loudly.

Alabaster flinched, his poise breaking a bit as the obviously peeved Roman whirled around to face him, teeth gritted, eyes narrowed, and fingers giving his Melodic Cudgel a death grip that usually meant he was about to beat someone to death with it.

"What. Happened!? Details, NOW!" He barked, and Alabaster straightened back up, brought his right hand up to his mouth, and coughed into a gloved fist politely before responding.

"'Ahem'. Well, Mister Torchwick, my knowledge of the situation comes entirely from Miss Neopolitan's briefing." He spoke, before his eyes moved to Roman's lips and noticed the lack of cigar. With a calm motion he stepped forward, left hand behind his back, and moved his right hand into his left suit-pocket, calmly pulling out another one of Roman's cigars, held delicately between his fingers.

"And it was rather rushed, as well as presented in… TEXTS." Spoke Alabaster, putting all of his disdain into that last word, along with an eye twitch, as he offered the cigar forward to Roman. Who, still breathing heavily with gritted teeth, SNATCHED the cigar out of Alabaster's hand with his left, and moved it to his lips, biting harshly on the end of the cigar as his pale-skinned rescuer continued.

"However, judging from what I could make out between all the smiley-faces, 'Lols', and general butchering of anything even remotely approaching a language, it appears that this whole 'oh Dust why have you forsaken us' scenario came about during the latter stages of the Vytal festival tournament."

Roman's eyes snapped up at that.

"Vytal festival?" He asked, moving his left hand into his pocket and roughly pulling out his lighter.

"Isn't that still weeks away?" He muttered in agitated confusion, bringing his lighter up in front of the cigar and flicking it open, as his thumb went to the wheel and started 'flick'-ing it, trying to get a light. But his movements were aggressive, angered by what he'd just seen, and the lighter wasn't igniting.

"I know only what Miss Neopolitan conveyed to me Mister Torchwick. My own sense of time is unfortunately not reliable in this matter." Spoke Alabaster, his eyes moving to the lighter. Calmly, he offered his left hand, palm up. Roman's eyes narrowed as he looked to the palm… and then with a grunt, grudgingly pushed the lighter into it. Alabaster calmly righted the lighter in his hand, lifted it back up to the tip of the cigar, and with one calm 'FLICK' brought the lighter to light, letting the flame ignite the end of Roman's cigar. Roman, once again, closed his eyes and took a deep puff of the addictive substance, letting it try and calm his nerves.

"But that part was fairly clear. The Vytal festival was nearing its end with the tournament in the singles round." Continued the suited male as he flicked the lighter closed, and offered it palm up once more to Roman, who opened his eyes… sighed sullenly, and took it with his left hand, moving it down into his pockets once more as he looked back up to Alabaster.

"Alright alright I got it, sense of time is off, probably Atlas's fault, kill Ironwood later. Now what happened?" Asked Roman, obviously still agitated and perhaps even grumpy, as Alabaster straightened back up, hands behind his back.

"Well, as stated, it was in the singles round, which was apparently rigged to pair two very specific individuals against each other."

* * *

The crowds were murmuring. They were fidgeting. They were nervous. And that was after they'd had an hour or so to calm down. The surprising, shocking, even disturbing actions of Yang Xiao Long earlier had unnerved them. And not just the crowds in the coliseum proper, but practically every person in Vale, Vacuo, Atlas, and Mistral combined. The only ones who didn't know the name Yang Xiao Long and associate it with a needlessly cruel and obviously sadistic young girl were those few who didn't care to watch the tournament, and they'd know soon enough too, as news stations picked up the story and it got spread by word of mouth. Not good. Not good at all.

An hour recession had been called to give them time to recover, assure the populace that the matter was being handled, and then an announcement had been made across all of Remnant to reveal that Yang was indeed in custody and not going to be competing in the tournament any longer. That the situation was under investigation and being resolved. A whole lot of words that were ultimately said just to try and get people to calm down. Because negativity, fear, anger, hatred, would all bring the Grimm. And that one cruel event, broadcast live and in crystal clear definition, had spread every one of them across the entirety of Remnant.

So the people who knew best were trying to ignore what had just happened and get things back on track. Namely, Peter Port and Bartholomew Oobleck. Peter, back in his role as announcer besides Oobleck, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

"Welcome back to the Vytal Festival Tournament! While recent events have somewhat marred this event, it would be a travesty, nay, a desecration to the very spirit of the festival, to let that stop us from proceeding with the finals round!" Spoke Peter, before Oobleck gave a quick nod.

"Quite right Peter! The show must go on, as they say, and we do have an exciting show still ahead of us!" Spoke the teacher rapidly as was his way. But despite their words, both teachers were just as perturbed as the audience. Perhaps even more so. Yang Xia Long was a student to both of them and this behavior, the obvious and easy cruelty they'd seen from her in breaking Mercury's leg, was nothing like anything they'd encountered in her personality before. Oobleck in particular had seen her fight, had a peak into her more intimate thoughts, and knew from the very bottom of his heart that something just wasn't right. There was something very different between the Yang who'd broken Mercury's leg and the one he'd led at Mountain Glenn.

But Oobleck and Peter couldn't dwell on that right now. They had to keep the festival going and raise the spirits of the people back up. As educated Hunters, they knew the consequences of letting negative emotion fester, so they put their own aside to rid the people of theirs.

"So! Let's see who our next exciting match-up is, and get this tournament back on track!" Continued Oobleck, as the screens spun, and came up with two names and faces.

"Ah! Pyrrha Nikos, one of the finest warriors in Remnant, representing Beacon and the Kingdom of Vale, but with PLENTY of support back home in Mistral I am sure!" Spoke Peter of the first image, some mumblings of ascent and cheers actually starting back up in the audience. After all, they didn't want to diss Pyrrha just because they were still perturbed at what happened earlier, and so her star power brought more, and more of the audience to start cheering her on, building back some of the positive energy they'd possessed before.

Despite that though, as the cameras focused on Pyrrha Nikos, she didn't look too happy. Her right arm was rubbing her left as she stood with her head down, a practically despondent expression on her face. She was barely even there, deaf to the crowds as they began cheering her on. Not a particularly photogenic choice for the next up in the matches.

"And Penny Polendina!" Continued Oobleck.

"A surprise powerhouse from Atlas! Having come up virtually unknown through the tournament showing great skill and ability throughout the rounds, she is bound to give Miss Nikos quite the fight!" Spoke the Doctor, as the other camera focused on Penny. Who was frowning, head tilted down, and hands clenched in front of her. Again, with her mind on anything but the fight about to happen, and not particularly photogenic.

"Would all other fighters please leave the arena!" Spoke Peter, trying to completely ignore that both girls looked like they were having absolutely horrible days and wanted to be anywhere but there.

Other fighters began to leave the ring as bade, leaving Pyrrha and Penny both on the platform, in a spotlight that they very much did not want to be in. And who could blame them?

Pyrrha felt like she was on the verge of breaking down. Yang, one of her best friends had done… something horrible. Something that she just couldn't understand. And that was on top of the major life-changing, possibly Remnant changing decision that she had to make. The one that could go anywhere from being a complete dud, to eating someone else's soul, to fusing HER soul with someone else, to DESTROYING her soul and leaving her body in a stranger's hands! It was a decision that could be more dangerous than any fight she had been in since she was born and she had to make it SOON.

And Penny… Penny was sad. Very sad. Because Ruby was sad. Very very sad. Penny wanted to fix Ruby's sadness. But she didn't know how. She wanted to help her friend. But there was nothing in her systems, nothing in her experiences, nothing in her at all, that knew how to fix a broken heart. Ruby's heart wasn't like Penny's, she couldn't just take it out and put a better one in, or weld it back. It wasn't even the actual organ causing her distress but something in her mind and the heart was just a metaphor used to describe it and… And Penny just felt so helpless. Her friend, the one she valued so much, was hurting very badly, and she couldn't help her.

Pyrrha looked over to her opponent, as the fighters walked away, and saw that Penny was looking about as bad as she was. Pyrrha, a pang of empathy moving through her, actually managed a bit of a smile, nervous and awkward, as she looked to the girl.

"Penny. Ruby's friend, right?" She asked, and the created girl looked back up to Pyrrha's eyes, blinking in surprise for a moment, then giving a very soft smile in return.

"Yes. And you are Ruby's friend to. It is very nice to meet you Pyrrha." Spoke Penny, honest, but subdued. The Mistrali champion let her smile increase just a bit, before continuing on.

"It is good to meet you as well. Do you… know how Ruby is doing?" She asked, struggling to get the words out, afraid of the answer. Penny blinked at the querry, and looked down, quiet for a moment.

"Ruby… is crying." Spoke Penny simply, before looking back up to her concerned opponent.

"And I don't think that she can stop." The created girl said, and although she couldn't cry herself, she… felt like doing it. She really did.

Pyrrha gulped at that, a deep lump in her throat and a dull pain in her gut that just hadn't gone away since she was first posed with the choice. As Penny finished speaking, the combatants finished leaving, and the stage began to move. Rock music played, lights came on, the center stage floated and all eyes went to Pyrrha and Penny. Pyrrha sighed a bit, then turned to face Penny with a smile, finally moving her right hand from her left arm.

"Penny, I know that things are… 'hard' right now. However let us try and put that aside for the moment. People want to see a fight with passion and strength, and… I believe that they need to. Perhaps we need such a fight as well." She spoke, before calmly and quickly pulling her shield Akouo to her left hand and raising her weapon Milo in sword form, gripping it tightly in her right hand.

"Please fight me with your best Penny! I will do the same for you. And then, whoever wins, we can try and help our friends together as well! What do you say?" Finished Pyrrha, finding some of her former passion and energy as the Atlas girl blinked, and then let her cheeks twitch up into a smile.

"I think that is a wonderful idea. Yes. A most splendid idea!" Spoke Penny, before turning her body to fully face Pyrrha, bringing her left hand up, open-palmed, and moving her right hand in a closed fist to that palm. Penny bowed, respectfully, keeping her eyes up on Pyrrha.

"I look forward to our match. Let us try to have a wonderful time!" She spoke, beaming, and Pyrrha smiled a little more herself. For just a bit, they could have an honest bout, just focusing on the fight, and deal with everything else afterwards. Just a brief respite from the tragedy that had come from nowhere to engulf them.

"3! 2! 1!"

* * *

"And in the middle of that round some sort of signal went off across Vale."

* * *

"AAAGGGGHHHH!" Before Peter had the opportunity to yell 'fight', Penny screamed and fell to her knees, hands flying up to her head, clenching at it as she squeezed her eyes shut and continued to scream.

"Penny! What's wrong!?" Asked Pyrrha quickly, concern evident in her voice as she lowered her shield, eyes glued to the robot girl as she began to scream, something she shared in common with the audience. And so focused they were on Penny, that they didn't even notice as the Atlesian Knights, dispersed across the coliseum around its entrances and at over-watch positions, suddenly 'twitched'.

A moment passed, and then there was a 'flicker' of green across the glass face of every Knight in the coliseum. And in that flicker was the symbol of a chess piece, a black queen, something that only the most observant of individuals could have possibly had the chance to notice. And then as one, the Knights turned, lifted their rifles towards the audience members closest to them and-

BANG!  
BANG!

BANG!-BANG!

BANG!

The rifles that the Knights had been equipped with were truly spectacular things. They were semi-automatic, but with the reflexes of the Knights they could fire at a pace approaching automatic fire. Filled with Steel Dust rounds and charged with a Lightning Dust core, the gun actually charged its rounds as it fired them, a mixture of Atlas technology and Dust magic ensuring a seamless and smooth firing rate with minimum kickback, combined with rounds that would punch right through the thick skin and hides of the Grimm, and even their exoskeletal armor at a short enough distance.

As a result, the rounds fired into the crowd were capable of punching through the unshielded civilian occupants at a high velocity with a good durability that would send the round through multiple chairs and the bodies sitting in them before it was stopped. Many rounds went absolutely impressive distances through fleshy obstructions, before the blood-covered metal bounced off the shield between the arena proper and the audience.

It took the audience a moment realize what was happening. The screaming from Penny was very loud, and it increased in pitch and intensity as she kept at it, while the weapons the Knights used were actually fairly quiet compared to most firearms. But when entire rows started slumping over, neat circular holes with smoke rising from them in their torsos and heads, blood seeping out into their clothing, people began to notice. People began to panic.

A faunus girl with short brown hair, deer horns, and a lovely brown shirt with blue jeans, got a round straight through the forehead, sending her tumbling back over the seated black-suited human with a hole through the heart that she'd been trying to climb over. An elderly male with thin white hair and a large brown coat, fell to a pair of shots, one through the spine and another through the heart, sending him tumbling down onto the floor next to his grandson, a brown-haired child, hand still grasping his grandfather's. A blue shirt-wearing male with his scroll out, dialling the police, received three consecutive rounds as he tried to run down the stairs looking for an exit, sending him tumbling down with limbs flailing and blood pooling from the wounds. And the Knights fired on. With no emotion, no care, and assigning no values to the people they killed. Just numbers ticking down on their screens.

The sound was horrendous. The screaming, the crying, the pleading, and the noise of the shots themselves. It was a cacophony that far superseded Penny's own, and drew Pyrrha's gaze away from the pained robot girl. Pyrrha's eyes turned up to the seats, to the stands, to see muzzle flashes consistent and steady, highly accurate fire finding marks with every shot, the Knights mowing down the occupants of the coliseum.

"No…" Pyrrha spoke, but the speech was little more than a whisper. Her eyes were wide, her breath didn't seem to be entering her lungs, and when she should have leapt into action instead she felt… crushed. Utterly crushed underneath the weight of the world.

"Oh Dust please no." She spoke again, and all the darkness that had already been afflicting her seemed to come back, full-swing, slamming into her heart. Her mind yelled, SCREAMED at her to do something, to put her warrior reflexes to action, to leap into combat as she was trained to do, BORN to do. And yet, she found herself able to do little more than make that plea, to the powers that governed the world, that plea for what she saw to just not be the case… But it was the case. And if someone didn't stop it, it would continue to be the case. So her muscles twitched, her eyes hardened, and her hands finally moved to action.

Sending her shield back onto her back Pyrrha quickly flipped Milo up into rifle form and raised it to her shoulder, eye moving to the sight and immediately snapping a pair of shots off towards the first Knight she saw… and both shots hit the shield that surrounded the arena, bouncing off before striking the Knights. Pyrrha gritted her teeth and lowered her weapon, mind immediately running through the multiple options and choices to reach a point of engagement with the enemy.

So focused Pyrrha was on this task, that she almost didn't notice when Penny stopped screaming. Slowly, with her head lowered, the robot girl began to get to her feet, Pyrrha's head turning to the nearby movement to watch the mechanical female stand.

"Penny?" Pyrrha asked, slow, cautious, with dread practically flavoring her every word, and as Penny raised her eyes up she-

* * *

"Wait wait wait wait wait. WHAT?! They just started unloading on people? Just like that!? No threats, no demands, no 'We are now in control'? They just started killing!?" Asked Roman with his left brow raised in disbelief. Alabaster nodded calmly in response.

"All over Vale apparently. The signal activated a virus that 'md dem all killy & fny lol'." Spoke Alabaster, squeezing his eyes shut in pain for a moment at the memory of Neo's communication preferences, before shaking his head a bit and opening his eyes again.

"In any event, it seems that the coliseum was just where the largest number of Knights were around the largest number of unarmed civilians. Though there were Atlas soldiers there as well, and Academy Students, so they were probably dealt with quickly enough. Still, the initial surprise attack would likely have killed a lar-"

"ALRIGHT! I got it!" Barked Roman, obviously agitated, interrupting the suited male and lowering his own gaze to the floor, visible eye visibly narrowed.

"Cinder what in the name of Dust were you THINKING!?" Asked Roman, a clear note of disbelief and anger in his voice. Alabaster for his part, tilted his head over towards the right, looking at the criminal mastermind with his right eyebrow raised.

"This… bothers you?" He asked, a slight tone of surprise to his voice.

"YES!" Barked Roman, looking up at Alabaster with a raging glare.

"This, none of this, makes ANY DAMN SENSE! Vale is ON FIRE! I knew people were going to die, a lot of people sure, definitely all the academy brats and most of the military, but this is insane! I thought she wanted to CONQUER Vale, not destroy it, make some kind of damn profit from it, destroy the old order, replace it with her tyranny or something! How is she going to benefit from this!? You can't rule a kingdom tyrannically or otherwise if all the people in it are dead!" He shouted, causing Alabaster to blink once calmly, before speaking in a calm, measured voice.

"Apparently this 'Cinder' wasn't telling you everything." He stated, plain as could be. Roman blinked, then gritted his teeth as a sudden FLASH of pain went through his head, focused in on the right side, causing him to close his eyes and try to shake it off. Alabaster furrowed his own brows at the action, as the pain left Roman as quick as it had come, and the crime lord opened his eyes again and looked up to Alabaster… then let out a 'RAGH!' of aggravation, turned to face down the hall, and started MARCHING forward, still clenching his cane tight enough to choke the life out of someone.

"COME ON! Let's get to that Dust damned bridge! And tell me what else happened!" Barked Roman as Alabaster briefly stood still, closed his eyes, took a deep calming breath, and opened his eyes… then widened them before turning on his heels and dashing straight towards Roman's back.

Several things happened then, quickly and consecutively. First, Alabaster 'Clicked' his right heel back against his left mid-run. Then, within his fine footwear, a hidden cache of raw powdered Wind Dust began to empty itself into thin, flexible tubes running along the insides of both shoe's soles. Following that, as Alabaster's quick step brought him right up behind Roman, who was just starting to turn his head at the noise, the hireling's aura kicked in to activate the dust and-

FWOOSH!

A burst of air blasted Alabaster forward, straight into Roman's back, Alabaster's right arm wrapping around Roman's waist and, in-part, cane to keep them pinned. As Roman started flying forward, his unpinned hat naturally flew back from his head, only to be grabbed by Alabaster's free left arm with speed that would be considered truly amazing to those without the benefit of aura, and held as they both went blasting down the hall on a jet of air… And then, the gigantic armor-piercing quills of a Giant Nevermore smashed through the window.

The crime lord's one visible eye widened in surprise as he accelerated down the hallway, but widened even more as a gigantic Nevermore quill flew faster than both him and his hireling, and pierced through the metal wall of the airship with a SCHINNNK! A groan of metal reaching Roman's ears faster than the multiple 'SCHINK' 'SCHINK' 'SCHINK' of the other quills, and the actual 'SHATTER'-ing sound of the quills striking through in the first place.

Roman and Alabaster hit the floor at the end of the hall, the wind dissipating, before the unmistakable-

SSSCCCCRRRRRRAAAAAAAAWWWWWW!

Of a Giant Nevermore sounded, and only then, as Alabaster rolled off Roman's back and to the crime lord's left, could Roman actually look back, over his right shoulder, to see the gigantic piercing quills, lining the length of the hall behind them… and the obviously peeved Giant Nevermore right outside the window. It glared at them both with red eyes, heavy wings flapping, an ancient anger in its eyes, all the more enraged since its prey had temporarily escaped it, and a bloody desire to see them dead.

Alabaster, with narrowed eyes back to the avian predator, locked his right arm around Roman's left. He then proceeded to move quickly forward, pulling the criminal mastermind up in the same movement. Roman had the sense of mind and adrenaline to move as well, using his cane to push-off, and dash with his second-time rescuer around the end right corner of the hall, out of the Nevermore's sight. Another-

SSSCCRRRRAAAAAAWWWW!

Sounded at this quick escape, then the audible FLAPS of the Nevemore, vibrating down the halls from the open window, signaled its departure from in front of the window to elsewhere over the airship… This didn't mean that Roman and Alabaster were safe by any means, just that the Nevermore couldn't kill them before destroying the airship. It had bought them some, but exactly how much would depend largely on the integrity of the airship's hull, and how much more damage the Atlesian vessel could sustain before it dropped out of the sky. Considering that the quills had gone right through the hall's metal floor and walls, Roman was a little less than optimistic. Though, at the moment, he did have a slightly more pressing concern.

"Oh wonderful. Like this thing needed any more dust." Spoke Roman with gritted teeth, straightening up and bringing his left hand up to wipe at his right coat shoulder, angrily brushing away some dust and broken glass from the heavy window shattering along with some dirt from the floor. He really, REALLY hated it when people, or things, messed up his fine coat. Didn't anyone understand just how much this thing COST! Tasteless degenerates…

With a shake of his head Roman sighed, and brought his right hand up with Melodic Cudgel to 'tap' against the side of his head, ever-so-slightly, as he closed his visible eye and spoke in an agitated voice.

"Annnnnnnnnnnd the Nevermore's fixated on us now, which means it will be focused on the ship, which means that it's not going to stop until it rips this thing apart with us inside!" exposited Roman, who was clearly having a day, as Alabaster took a calming breath of his own, and turned to face the crime lord.

"Yes, probably. Though this is a military-grade airship at least, and one of the Atlas gunships outside may attack and take its attention. Because we're obviously that lucky, and not at all targets for karmic retribution." Stated Alabaster simply, smilingly wryly for a moment as he brought Roman's hat up in both hands and calmly 'placed' it on the crime lord's head.

Slowly, cautiously, as though it was a vitally important process, Alabaster subtly adjusted the hat on Roman's head, making sure it was positioned perfectly on top of the crime lord's cranium. Roman, who had the sense to open his eyes and lower his cane when a hat touched his head, just stared at the focused Alabaster as he undertook this delicate process… And when Alabaster brought his hands from the hat, precise positioning accomplished, and folded them behind his back Roman still stared at him… before shaking his head and raising his hands and shoulders in a 'fine, whatever' gesture, before letting them drop and looking back to Alabaster with a narrowed eye.

"Well kiddo, I don't know about you but I'm not going to wait around and take my chances that the big bird will go 'oh shiny' with something else! This ship's got guns, let's go use them!" Countered Roman, before turning and beginning to practically stomp his way down the hallways. Alabaster took only a moment to flinch at being called 'kiddo' before following Roman.

"That would probably be the best course of action. Oh, and the White Fang."

"What?" Asked Roman, turning his gaze over the right shoulder towards Alabaster with an eyebrow raised at the apparent non-sequitur as the hireling followed in his footsteps.

"The White Fang happened next."

* * *

VWOOSH!

A rocket streamed through the sky, leaving a grey smoke trail behind it as it SMASHED into the first floor of a shop called 'From Dust to Dawn'. And naturally, where a rocket smashed, it exploded.

BOOOOOM!

The shop erupted in flames, scattering debris everywhere and exploding again with lightning, and again with even more fire, and again with gusts of wind WHIPPING the fire onto nearby buildings as the Dust in the shop exploded along with it.

As the shop and all its wares shared the explosion with all its neighbors below, Bullheads flew overhead. The first rocket heralded the arrival of another, and another, as grey streams snaked through the sky, emerging from cylindrical eight-barrel steel-grey launchers fixed beneath the noses of numerous oncoming bullheads. Bullheads with the red three claw marks and growling feline face of the White Fang on their sides.

While nowhere near as impressive as the Atlesian airfleet, the pure number of incoming bullheads marked with the symbol of the White Fang couldn't help but inspire some awe. Not to mention terror, as the missile-equipped models pumped streaming rocket after rocket into the city below. Explosions boomed and fires burst where their missiles hit, but that was only a taste of what was to come. A fact made clear by the presence of prototype version Atlesian Paladins, held by quadruple sets of steel grey magnetic clamps affixed to the Bullhead underbellies, keeping the heavy metal troops steady, the symbol of the White Fang painted in bloody red on the Paladin gun-arms.

These Paladin-carrying Bullheads, armed with more typical machine-guns below the nose, moved down closer towards the city as the rest of the White Fang ships launched their assault across the city. They brought themselves down close to open spaces, parks, parking lots, and market squares, as well as other clear areas in the city below, before hovering several feet over these spaces and 'CLINK' releasing the magnetic clamps. Paladins hit the ground below, slumped and deactivated, but a few moments after contact, each would 'SHOOOM' as they powered up, and raise their weapon-arms, straightening up and starting to scan the environment as their pilots activated the metal monstrosities.

Even as the stolen Paladins began to fan out, other Bullheads stopped close to the Paladin drop-points and opened their doors. White Fang soldiers leapt out, armed with automatic rifles, swords, pistol and sword, and other combat combinations. The only thing that seemed uniform amongst them was the equipment, ability, and desire to cause harm. As the soldiers began to scatter, moving to secure landing points and open areas for more soldiers to deploy within, a particular set of feet hit the ground with a 'THUD', impact striking up dust as the White Fang warrior hit the ground.

His mask was white, denoting his higher rank, and shaped to resemble the growling face of an Ursa, complete with vicious red eyes of hardened glass instead of the more typical thin-slits, and red lines streaking down from the eyes, painted on. His hair and upper head was covered by a black hood, with a more or less standard White Fang uniform beneath, though armless to show off thick, heavy muscles, and with a thick grey plate fastened over his chest and back with black straps, armor over the uniform, stopping just a bit above the standard black sash about his waist and the red White Fang claws and snarling cat painted on the back.

That wasn't where the armor stopped either, with his knees protected by grey steel knee-guards, tied back behind with black straps, and there were thick black combat boots upon his feet, guarded with steel-grey plates seemingly built into the leather, separated to allow for flexibility, but with an especially thick armored steel toe. There were then steel gauntlets over his hands, thick and hard, with sharpened points for the fingers, allowing for practical claws. But that was nothing compared to what was mounted on his wrists… namely, grenade launchers.

While not as large as a typical two-handed affair, the launchers were still of far larger size than meant to be supported by a wrist and forearm. Their ammunition was held in a revolving circular drum, again steel grey, with eight tubes within, each capped by a red-circled cylinder, seemingly inserted into the tube. The rotating feeds wrapped around his wrists, immovable cylinder in the center keeping the weapons fastened on the wrist, and leaving the revolving cylinders to cycle up to slot in for their barrel, wide and tall, going out from the wrist to about seven inches past the knuckles, with a little red glass 'dot' visible just below the barrel on each wrist.

This heavy-set White Fang soldier stood, at 6ft11 with bulging muscles and red eyes lighting up, turning his head to look across the marketplace he'd dropped into. Even as he looked, another heavy 'Thud' sounded to his right, and then another 'Thud' to his left, as two more white fang soldiers, dressed in the same get-up and armed with the same weaponry, landed, and then proceeded to stand. The one to his left was only 6ft9, and the one to his right was a 6ft8 woman, but both of them were about as ripped as him. He ignored his compatriots and continued to look around… until he spotted what looked like a face pressed up against the window of a two-story house, the face of a long-haired brown woman in her thirties, with wide blue eyes, filled with fear.

The first of the ursa-masked White Fang soldiers to land let out a 'snort' then raised his left arm up, fist closed and barrel pointed straight at the house, just a bit above the second story window, and then-

'Shoomp'

A simple, almost comical sound came as a small red and orange sphere launched from the barrel, slow enough that it could be tracked with the eye, arched across the length of the market square towards the house. The face quickly drew back as the woman inside did in fright, and the sphere 'smashed' through the window, as unimpressively as a thrown brick, making a small hole and sprinkling glass on the inside as it went in… …

BOOOOOOOOM!

And the unofficial celebration of 'Explode Vale Day' continued as a brilliant red explosion literally blew the roof off other house, along with its entire second floor, and a good portion of it's first. Debris fell from the sky, along with a severed arm charred down to the blackened bone, as the White Fang grenadier smirked. A 'BEEP-Clink' sounded as the revolving drum for the grenade rotated, another cylinder making its way into the barrel slot as the other left, still present in the slot, but now with its red outlining dulled, waiting to recharge…

With that bit of business done the trio of heavy armed and armored White Fang warriors moved forward, heavy footsteps sounding in their wake as the White Fang secured the market place, for what was surely going to be a day Remnant would remember forever… And even as they did so, more White Fang Bullheads flew overhead, separating into large groups, some more dispersing out across the city, others headed for the Atlesian airfleet, and still others headed towards Beacon… And death continued on, as explosives rained across the city…

* * *

"So did anyone decide NOT to blow everything up today, or did everyone up and go pyromaniac while I was out?" Asked Roman as he and Alabaster continued their walk, now a significant distance away from the breakout point.

"Again I-"

"Only know what Neo told you right, do you have any idea how annoying it is hearing that over and over? Don't answer that, it's rhetorical." Sounded Roman with gritted teeth, running now, though at more of a jog pace, as Alabaster kept up easily.

"Ugh, and it doesn't take a genius, which I am obviously, to figure out that all this chaos and destruction and fear would bring the Grimm. In massive numbers. Even the Alphas would-" Roman started, before the airship 'SHOOK' from an impact, causing him to stop and have to balance himself, Alabaster stopping when Roman did though seeming to only 'tilt' to the right slightly instead of stumbling with the shaking, before it ended and Roman stood straight again, biting hard on the end of his cigar.

"-would get involved, with the Kingdom defenses so distracted. The baby hunter wannabes at Beacon won't be used to those, much less Vale's idiot police." He finished, before his visible eye scanned down the hall and saw something that made him smirk.

"Ah, there we go, the bridge'll be down that hallway." Stated Roman as he resumed jogging, Alabaster nodding and following right behind him.

"So what then, Atlas's hacked toys teamed up with the White Fang to torch the city while spouting off some nonsense about 'faunus rights' and 'punishing humanity'?" Asked Roman, still fishing for information from what was becoming an annoyingly dry well, but still the best he had access to. Alabaster, for his part, suppressed a sigh and simply responded as he jogged behind Roman who was much, MUCH slower than he'd like, considering that there was still a war going on around them outside the airship.

"Actually, I believe that their interactions were far less… civil."

"Okay Al there's a time and place for fancy language and this ain't it, just tell me what happened!" barked Roman, to which Alabaster, who believed that fancy language belonged just about everywhere, narrowed his eyes.

"They fucked each other up their respective assholes. Mister Torchwick."

"… Allllllrighty then. You can go back to fancy speak."

"Thank you Mister Torchwick."

* * *

BANG!-BANG!-BANG!

The shots of the Atlesian Knights weren't meant to pierce through aura per-se, but in taking down human hostiles such an ability was necessary. And a flying slug of energized metal was a flying slug of energized metal. The first shot knocked down the White Fang grunt's aura into the red, and the next two pierced through his heart and left lung, respectively.

The grunt fell back with a cough of blood, his body hitting the street as his sword loosened from his hand, and the blood drained from his body. A female compatriot moved up next to him with her left hand grabbing his right arm, and starting to try and drag him back as she lifted her automatic rifle in one hand and-

BAPAPAPAPAPAPAPAP!

Fired it off into the approaching column of Knights… The Knights marched down the Vale street shoulder to shoulder, in perfect gunline formation. The rifles of the front section were leveled and firing steadily at the retreating White Fang soldiers. The automatic fire from the rifle strafed up diagonally across one Knight's chest, 'PING'-ing as they bounced off, leaving small dents but not piercing through, and 'CRACKED' the face-plate of the Knight immediately to its left at the end of it's wild-firing arch. The one who's chest had been strafed leveraged its own rifle back towards the offending White Fang soldier, and calmly unloaded on her.

A pair of 'BANGS' and she was down with a hole in her chest, dead-centered and severing her spine on the way out. Further back other White Fang grunts were either retreating down the street, or taking cover around alley-corners and behind crates and boxes, shooting pistols and rifles over said boxes and around said corners, or, for the melee armed ones that hadn't died on the initial charge, simply hid and waited for the approaching column to come closer.

A White Fang heavy with gritted teeth and grenade launchers ready walked down the street from the opposite end, towards the advancing column. A pair of shots STRUCK his armored chest, which between his aura and the armor actually stopped them entirely. He stopped next to a rifle-armed White Fang grunt who was firing down towards the Knights and backtracking down the street as he did so, possibly trying to maneuver back behind the heavy. The heavy snorted, as the grunt was struck by a three-shot burst in the chest and fell back onto the street with blood splattering out, and raised his right arm.

'Shoomp' sounded the grenade launcher as the red and orange ball of energy arched through the air, into the center of the Knight column… and then went BOOOOOOM! Exploding with fire and force, sending the Knights flying every-which way from the center of the column, scattering them into parts and bits… And as the smoke cleared, a few Knights, missing legs or arms or even their heads, continued to walk down the street, leaving their destroyed compatriots behind as what few still had arms raised their rifles and resumed firing. The Heavy growled as he began to walk towards them himself, flexing his clawed fingers, as the remaining White Fang grunts came out from behind alleyway corners with guns and blades, and began to advance, charging or firing as they moved to take back the length of the street. Just one of many they were called upon to conquer that day.

* * *

"Oh well, let's just go ahead and add that to the list of things that don't make a blasted ounce of sense about this little apocalypse! Really, Cinder turned the robots on the White Fang WHILE they were invading the Kingdom!? … Actually, the more I hear about this, the more I think Cinder wasn't involved at all… something went wrong. Very wrong." Thought Roman out loud, as the two moved down the hallway towards the door to the bridge.

"You would know Mister Torchwick. Now, if there is any place on the ship that will still be guarded, it's the bridge. We should be ready for a fight." Alabaster spoke as they got to the door, his left hand moving up into his suit and over towards his right inner-suit pocket as he spoke.

"Oh believe me after all the aggravating asinine things I've had to hear about in, what, ten-fifteen minutes, I am MORE than ready to give my gracious hosts a warm explosive-based THANK YOU for my stay here!" Spoke Roman as they neared the door, flipping his cane around in his right hand and 'HITTING' the door release with his cane hook to open it up.

"GUESS WHO you Atlas-" He started as the door slid open with a sci-fi style hiss, and then stopped. Stopped as he was surprised for what had to be the fifth or sixth time today. Alabaster tilted himself left to look past Roman's shoulder, through the doorway, and onto the bridge.

"Oh… well. That's unexpected." Commented the hireling dryly as his eyes were greeted with bodies. The dead body of an Atlas soldier with blue armor highlights lying on the floor a foot from the door with a pistol still clutched in his right hand. The equally dead body of a small female officer with blonde hair, upper-body slumped over the console to the immediate right with a hole in her chest, head turned away from the door and arms hanging limply by her sides, knees on the floor keeping her body in position. And the corpse of another soldier with yellow highlights who was slumped up against the side of the front-left console, just visible from the doorway, with his own yellow-edged sword rammed through his throat. And then the body of a woman… a small, petite woman with multi-colored hair, unique eyes, and an open umbrella, twirling lightly over her shoulder… a woman who was sitting casual as could be on little center outcropping of the console pair directly across from Roman and Alabaster at the doorway. And unlike all the other bodies in the room, hers was very much alive.

"Neo…" Spoke Roman, slowly lowering his cane and actually speaking softly for once.

Neopolitan smirked, then grinned, then 'hopped' off the console, collapsing her umbrella in the same motion, turned it upside-down and back in her left hand as she 'skipped' over the dead soldier in the middle of the floor, pranced up to Roman, threw her arms around him, laid her head right against his chest, and proceeded to give Vale's foremost criminal mastermind, a hug. And Roman, after a single blink of surprise, actually smiled, brought his cane down to press to the ground, and moved his left hand around to Neo's back, pulling her closer as he lowered his head down to her hair, and hugged her close.

"You always did get me the best presents." Spoke Roman still softly, as Neo tightened her hug around him, and the crime lord opened his visible eye again, this time with a gleeful, predatory gleam in it.

"And now, heheheh… now we can have OUR fun."


	3. Chapter 3: And A Big Thanks To Atlas

(So, new chapter, hopefully a nice one. I actually planned to get even farther with this one, however time constraints are a thing, so here we are. Hopefully it'll provide you great entertainment regardless, please enjoy!)

* * *

Vale burned. Battle raged. Blood spilled. And chaos reigned. Four armies fought in a free-for-all brawl across the city and civilian casualties were high as Grimm, White Fang, and the damn Atlas robots alike butchered them on sight. Qrow would have liked to say that he felt shocked, or appalled, or horrified. Some appropriate negative emotion that a rational person who'd had something approaching a normal life was supposed to feel in situations like this. But the truth was that this reminded him so much of Mountain Glenn, and so many less famous but equally tragic villages beyond the watch of the Kingdoms, that all he really felt was a kind of bitter resignation. Had he really become that jaded? … Well, he didn't exactly have the time to waste psychoanalyzing himself to answer that question. He had a job to do.

SCHLINK!

The veteran huntsman was many things. A drunkard, an admittedly cool uncle, unruly, ill-mannered, a bit of a degenerate, and all kinds of indecent. But he was also damn good at his job, as was evidenced by his fully extended scythe making a clean slash through Atlas's oh-so-impressive military tech, severing the right armored fist of the Paladin in front of him and sending it crashing down onto the street. The stone cracked as the now useless hunk of metal struck it, white-painted Atlas mech stumbling back a few clanking steps as it's severed stump of an arm 'sparked'. The left arm of the Paladin 'shifted' back into gun form, and turned to point down towards Qrow. But even as it fired a-

BLAST!

Of blue energy, breaking the street and leaving a small crater where it had hit, Qrow was already in the air, twirling in a single motion with his scythe and-

SCHLINK!

The gun-arm fell, hitting the street much as its twin had, Qrow spinning into his second loop before the gun had even finished its fall and turning his scythe blade-backwards to SLAM the back-head of his scythe into the Paladin', denting in the torso as the strike sent it sprawling onto its back, breaking the ground where the heavy metal juggernaut lay. Qrow's arch ended quickly with his feet planted onto the torso of the prone Paladin, and a quick spin of his scythe with his right hand made a-

SHINK!

As the blade slashed into the Paladin's torso and cut it open in one clean spin. The pure effortlessness of Qrow's attacks against the Paladin would, of course, have had Atlesian engineers tearing their hair out, and Academy students standing slack-jawed. A fact that Qrow didn't allow himself to appreciate as he reached to the gash in the torso with his left hand, and with a small grunt WRENCHED the rest of the metal open, tearing it wide so that he could see inside.

The pilot was an Atlas soldier, wearing the standard armor with yellow edging and tinting. He was laying back in the pilot-seat, surrounded by green glowing screens, with what looked like wires jutting out of the chair, and digging in under his skin at the neck and face. His flesh looked red and charred in the same spots, and Qrow immediately smelt the sick aroma of cooked human meat, mixed in with hints of melted metal, topped off with a feeling of electrical energy making the hairs along the length of his left arm stand up. Qrow grimaced at the sight and smell, suspicions about the unfortunate fate of the Paladin pilot confirmed, before he felt said Paladin shift beneath him.

Qrow leapt back and off of the Paladin's torso as the machine's legs moved underneath it to right itself, the metal hulk getting up, electrocuted pilot still slumped over inside as the machine continued to act independently of any human instruction. Qrow, with narrowed eyes, took only a moment to curse the stupidity of making a Mech designed to be piloted by a human able to function without a human pilot, before widening his feet slightly, lowering his body, and bringing the scythe back around his right side, right hand up on the shaft and left hand lower. As the Paladin raised its gun arm, again pointing towards Qrow, he 'vanished' in a BURST of wind and-

SCHLINK, SCHINK, SHINK, SCHLINK!

Reappeared, back where he'd vanished from, straightening up and moving his left hand to sweep through his hair, then bringing it down to his waist and smirking a bit… before the Paladin in front of him made a pathetic-

'CREAK' 'Ftzftz'

Sound. And collapsed. Sliced into clean little pieces, falling into a heap of junk on the street, body of the dead pilot unfortunately included in that which did make it a little bit… messy. Qrow allowed his smirk to widen as he saw sparks rising from the now devastated Paladin, ignoring the part where there was a fleshling involved. After all, wrecking Ironwood's toys always did bring him a special kind of satisfaction. A catharsis really. And judging by the metallic thudding noise that was reaching his ears, he was going to get another opportunity to indulge in said catharsis.

Qrow turned his head at the sound of another Paladin, sun glinting off its fancy white metal body as it barreled down towards him from a far street, on its way to the square he was now occupying. With a 'grunt' and a small sigh, Qrow turned, bringing his scythe down at his right, moving his left hand to grip the handle as he lowered his body and-

OORRRRUUUUUU!

CRASH!

A ghostly trumpeting cry came as a giant white Goliath, with eerily glowing cyan lines where it's red markings would typically be, appeared out of nowhere and SMASHED straight into the Paladin, trampling over the metal mech and wrecking it utterly, pounding the Atlas tech into scrap beneath its mighty feet. But even as it finished its charge it began to dissipate, seeming to disintegrate into tiny fragments, reminiscent of snowflakes, disappearing into thin air and leaving nothing behind but a destroyed heap of metal to show it was ever there.

Qrow let his brows raise a bit, honestly a little surprised, not by what had happened so much as by who he knew had to be responsible. He was pretty sure that she'd gone out of town. But then he smirked, deciding that he didn't actually care why she was here, as he straightened up, and turned his head over towards the left to see a very aggravated Winter Schnee standing on a nearby rooftop. Prim clothing, heeled boots, and hair as immaculate as her combat form. Perfect, beautiful… and pretty damn scary when she wanted to be. The only woman in Remnant that Qrow enjoyed pissing off more than Glynda.

Looking at Qrow with an utterly disapproving glare, Winter 'leapt' off of the roof as calm and proper as could be, landing a few feet away from him and regally striding forward, heels clacking against the street, and grip tight around her rapier even as her free hand remained clenched in a fist. Qrow couldn't help but let the smirk widen on his face as he turned to face her fully, his scythe coming up to rest on his right shoulder, his left hand on his hip as he looked to the young woman.

"Hey there Ice Queen. You, ah, do realize you just destroyed Atlas military property, don'tcha?" Asked Qrow, amusement leaking from his voice. Winter's eyes narrowed and her expression moved from her more constant disapproval to an actual scowl.

"Be silent Qrow! I do not have time for your idiocy!" She berated, loudly, as she practically stomped the last couple of feet up to the older Huntsman.

"Where is General Ironwood!? Where are Vale's soldiers!?" She almost shouted, and then her eyes narrowed a bit more, as a softer tone moved in to temper the rage.

"And where is my sister?" At that, Qrow's eyes and mouth fell into their more normal affair, a mixture of tiredness mixed with cynicism, as he sighed and shook his head.

"Ironwood's disappeared." He spoke bluntly, that one statement causing Winter to widen her eyes in alarm as Qrow turned away and looked up to the sky, watching the Airships, Gunships, and Bullheads, engage both each other and the Grimm, Nevermores and Griffins swarming in mass.

"Last message we got from him was that he was trying to get enough soldiers together to get to the Vale Council Chambers, evacuate the Council before the White Fang gutted them. After that, nothing. Calling him gets a 'Scroll Deactivated' message. Probably been destroyed." Muttered Qrow, letting his scythe's end hit the ground, shaft leaning against his right shoulder, as his left hand moved behind him and under his cape to grab his flask.

"Then we need to get to the Council Chambers! We need to sear-" Started Winter, approaching a few steps towards Qrow before he interrupted with-

"I've been there!" He snapped, quickly and far more harshly than was needed, actually causing Winter to take a step back and widen her eyes slightly in surprise. Whether at Qrow's tone or the idea that he could be productive was something even her own mind wasn't certain of. Qrow looked over his left shoulder to Winter for a moment with an agitated glance, as though to drive the point home, before looking forward and down, and bringing his flask up in front of him, right hand moving to unscrew the cap as he let out another sigh, trying to dispel SOME of his aggravation.

"It's gone. Blown up. Barely one stone left on top of another." Spoke Qrow, before shaking his head with a humorless chuckle.

"Guess the Fang really hated that place." He stated simply, before moving the flask up to his lips and taking a swig, as Winter narrowed her eyes, leveling a more thoughtful glare towards Qrow.

"What about the V.C.G.?"

"'Agh' Heh, what do you think?" Asked Qrow as he lowered the flask, and wiped his mouth with the back of his left arm.

"The City Guard was a joke even before you Atlas goons took over everything in Vale. Policing, garrison duty, even the defense of the Council Chambers. Everything. The idiots were probably napping, enjoying their unofficial vacation when YOUR machines went crazy and came in to shoot them in their beds! As for the ones who survived that? Well, the White Fang just spent a ton of their stolen Dust blowing up Vale. Think they missed the Guard Stations on the way in?" Qrow continued bitterly, moving his cap back to the flask and screwing it back on, probably with a little more force than was strictly necessary.

As for Winter, her expression had become less and less aggressive and more and more impassive as Qrow continued to explain the situation. Carefully neutral. Carefully cold. To someone who didn't know her it would look as though she was processing all of this information calmly and efficiently while disregarding her own feelings on the situation, calmly sorting her emotions away until they were needed.

To someone who knew her, and damn did Qrow know her inside and out, it was fairly obvious that she was on the verge of breaking down, freaking out, flying into a berserker rage, and ripping the whole plaza apart. Because for all her discipline, for all her skill, for all her practiced careful posturing and dedicated formal behavior, she was one of the most emotionally unstable, angry, and insecure women that he'd ever met. The only one he knew with more issues was his sister, and SHE outstripped all her competition by several miles, Winter coming in second to that still made her pretty fucked up. Having a heartless bastard for a father would do that to someone he supposed. Qrow pretended that he couldn't see it, see it in Winter's face, reflected as it was in the polished glass of an unshattered store window opposite of him down the plaza, pretended that he couldn't see just how close she was to losing her precious form and just going crazy. And he even pretended that he couldn't see the next question coming, the one that mattered to her more than any other, forming on her lips and dancing out as inevitably as the Grimm Reaper's visit.

"… And my sister?" She asked, her voice quieter than before, carefully measured, carefully neutral. But even she couldn't keep the hint of a tremor out of it.

Qrow stood quiet for a moment, before looking over his shoulder back to Winter, his expression as serious as it ever got.

"After my niece's 'incident' in the tournament her team got together in their dorm at Beacon to keep her company. Last I checked, they were still there… And since then, the White Fang has attacked the academy, along with the Grimm and your crazy robots." He spoke, and pretended that he didn't notice Winter tightening her grip around her rapier.

"They're probably in the middle of a battle for the school. Fighting the Fang, the Grimm, and your trashy robots all. Ozpin'll be busy leading the defense… he knows what's at stake more than anyone alive." Spoke Qrow simply, watching Winter as she lowered her eyes from him to the ground, subjecting the stone at her feet to a harsh glare, even as her grip tightened hard enough to make her sword tremble in her hand, and she gritted her teeth together, hard. Fighting with every ounce of her being to keep the rage in check and not just rush off to Beacon and tear through every single thing that dared try to hurt her little sister.

"… If you went to her, no one would blame you." Spoke Qrow, his voice a little softer for a moment.

"Least of all Jimmy… he'd understand." Continued the veteran Hunter, as Winter just glared at the ground for a moment, war raging in her mind just as violently as it raged out in the city around them.

"… Ozpin. Do you trust him?" Asked Winter simply, her voice embracing a measured calm, forced over the deeper anger.

"With my life. And more importantly, with my nieces lives." Stated Qrow with conviction. Winter took a deep breath in, and let out a shuddering sigh… before straightening up and rolling her shoulders back, loosening her grip on her sword just enough to get it to stop trembling in her hand. And when she looked to Qrow again, it was with a determined glare, hard and full of conviction.

"My sister can look after herself. That is not an ability that the citizens of Vale have. Someone needs to organize our surviving forces into a coherent defense, and if the Council, the Guard, Beacon's Headmaster, and… and the General are incapacitated as you say, then we are next down on the chain of command."

That got a raised eyebrow from Qrow, before Winter explained.

"As an S-Class Elite in the Special Operations Unit I outrank all other officers present in Vale. And you are a senior Hunter who has acquired a… not entirely undeserved reputation. Between the two of us we can rally Atlas, Vale, and Hunter groups in the city to establish safe-zones for the civilian population." She spoke, falling back onto her discipline and formality as Qrow smirked a bit, taking a moment to enjoy the grudging respect she'd given him.

"Well then, guess we should start running towards the biggest and loudest battles in the city until we get enough people together to make a difference." Spoke Qrow simply, as the sound of mechanical footsteps reached his and Winter's ears, both looking up and to their lefts down a far street, to see a line of Atlesian Knights, marching forward with guns raised, and a Paladin lumbering along behind them, gun-arms at the ready.

"And cut up everything that gets in our way while we're at it." Continued Qrow, smirking just a bit at that, turning to face these new opponents as Winter moved to stand at his left, calmly lifting her rapier with a SWISH to point down towards the approaching opponents. Still smirking, Qrow brought his flask up again, uncapped it, and moved it over to his left in front of Winter, making her blink in surprise, then look to him with her eyes still narrowed, and her right brow arched, as he met her eyes with his own easy gaze.

"Ready to vandalize a few more of your boss's toys Ice Queen?" he asked with a cocky smirk to his mouth. Winter let out a low growl as some of her more typical annoyance with Qrow resurfaced… and then SNATCHED the flask out of his hand with her left, brought it to her lips, took a deep SWIGG, and then wrenched it down from her lips, wiping her mouth with a very unladylike movement of her left arm, before practically shoving the flask back into Qrow's chest.

"Just shut up and fight you aged degenerate!" She snapped out, finishing with another 'growl' as Qrow chuckled lightly, this one with some actual humor in it, as he took, recapped, and stowed his flask, moved his hands around to grip his scythe and then-

FWOOSH!

FWOOSH!

-… And then a pair of top-tier Hunters moving faster than the eye could track proceeded to turn expensive state of the art Atlas equipment into scrap. All the while chaos reigned around the city, and a battle raged in the skies overhead…

* * *

A battle that the Roman occupied airship had yet to join, due in no small part to a very small criminal who appeared to have gotten a bit… clingy.

Now it wasn't that Roman didn't like hugging Neo. He wasn't a 'hugger' per se, but Neo's smaller body pressed up against his never failed to feel comfortable, plus her hair smelled like ice-cream, and hey, sometimes he did like a bit of physical affection. Even the kind that wasn't completely to mostly naked with lots of fluids and panting, and leather, and sometimes ropes or even the wh-

ANYWAYS, derailing that train of thought before his body got the wrong impression, the point was that he could enjoy a hug now and again, especially from Neo. However, Neo usually wasn't quite so… grippy, as she was being now. She'd locked arms around him and had yet to let go, long past the point that she knew he liked his hugs to end. As a result, it was getting a little awkward in the control room, corpses of the dead Atlesian soldiers and officer about, and hired help standing off to the side, watching as the embrace went on… and on… and on.

Alabaster, keeping proper form, stood calmly with his feet together and hands behind his back, watching as his employers continued hugging while there was a no-holds barred air-battle going around the ship they were in, a battle that he could occasionally glimpse through the large pane windows at the front of the bridge. He kept his expression purposefully unperturbed as a trio of Griffons flew past the windows, followed by a pair of White Fang bullheads firing their cyclical minigun rounds after them, a few hits strafing across the window on the way and leaving small impact 'spiderwebs' on the panes that they hit.

Alabaster, feeling that perhaps it would be better to move things along BEFORE something destroyed the ship, brought his right hand up from behind his back to his mouth in a fist, and politely 'coughed' into it to remind Miss Neopolitan that she had an audience. Then he 'coughed' again, a little more forcefully, to remind her that there was an ongoing situation that could possibly get them killed if they didn't resolve it… and then sighed lightly as it became apparent that Neo didn't especially care, moving his hand back behind his back and hoping that Mister Torchwick would bring her to her senses before something important blew up.

The airship 'SHOOK' slightly, as some kind of impact from outside reverberated through the metal, shaking the corpses around the three living people on the ship lightly, and making Roman stumble just a bit, though not much due to Neo's stabilizing grip and her own ability to stay perfectly balanced while the ship shook. Still, the motion impressed upon Roman a certain degree of urgency, and he looked towards Alabaster with his right eyebrow raised, a questioning glance to if he knew why Neo was being so insistently clingy. After all, he had been the last person to interact with Neo before they reunited.

Alabaster simply shrugged his shoulders up, then down, hands still behind his back. He had no idea what was going through the ice cream girl's mind at the moment and knew better than to guess, especially when he was so… distracted by the possibility of impending doom.

Roman suppressed an aggravated sigh, and looked back down to Neo, before making his face move into a slightly awkward grin. Moving his left hand up to his mouth for a moment he let out a slightly anxious cough, some smoke drifting up from his cigar with the motion, before moving his left hand back down to Neo's back and giving it a tentative 'pat-pat-pat', while his right moved to pluck the cigar from his lips, letting Melodic Cudgel rest by its hook on the forearm.

"H-hey Neo, I'm glad to see you to, but-uh, we do have to actually fly the airship to escape in it. So it doesn't, y'know, get destroyed by the Grimm? With us inside? Kinda want to avoid that here." Spoke Roman, before smirking a bit, a more familiar and cocky glint coming to his eye.

"And plus I want to play with this WONDERFUL new toy! Come on, let's take this thing out for a test drive! Shoot some Grimm, blow up some airships, maybe fire a volley or two at Beacon to scare the kiddies! Whatdya say Neo, let's go and have some FUN!" Spoke Roman with a grin, tip of his cigar choosing that moment to ominously 'glow' as he finished speaking.

Neo took a deep breath in, head still buried in Roman's coat as she did so. Not that either of the males there would understand it, but she was taking a good deep inhalation of his scent, just as with the hugging she was keeping a good firm grasp on **HIM**. Then, absolutely certain that he was real and not going to disappear if she let go, she finally unlocked her arms from around the crime-lord, stepped back, looked up to him with a smirk, and brought her left arm up in a 'Salute' to her boss, a sadistic glint in her eyes… brown left and pink right this time around.

Roman grinned as Neo returned to more or less regular form.

"Now THAT'S what I like to hear!" He spoke, right hand moving his cigar back to his mouth, and letting his Melodic Cudgel fall up his arm back towards his hand, gripping it beneath the hook and stepping past Neo with a grin, passing by the dead officer and stepping over the dead soldier on the floor on his way down the stairs, and towards the front console. As he reached it he put Melodic Cudgel down, leaning it against the console on the right side and stepped up to the middle, looking at the screen that was currently displaying a map of Remnant, then looking down to the buttons and options on the interface, sucking on the end of his cigar in thought.

Neo turned as he moved past and just watched him as he went to get things started, smirking with an all-too familiar glint in her eyes as she watched, knowing that life was about to get interesting again… Though her focus on Roman did not prevent her from noting the presence of Alabaster, stepping up to her left, arms still behind his back, looking at the crime lord as well. But when the hireling spoke, it was to her, and quietly so that Roman couldn't overhear.

"You've returned much sooner than you implied." He stated simply, his voice low and calm, but with a clear and icy edge within.

"You did not perhaps decide to abscond on my payment in favor of time?" He questioned, turning a pair of hard, narrowed eyes down towards the lethal umbrella-wielder. The ice-cream girl looked up to him in response, meeting his own eyes with her heterochromatic pair, and gave an innocent little smile… before slipping her scroll out from her left pocket into her left hand, holding it up, pushing a few 'beep'-ing buttons with her thumb, then raising it up at arm's length, slightly up and to the left for him to see.

Alabaster, raising his right eyebrow a bit at Neopolitan's response, leaned down and to the right to get a better look. And then three things happened in succession. His eyes widened, then narrowed, and then he turned both of them back to Neo in a glare, keeping his body rigid in position as he turned his head to look at her.

"Really? And this method was entirely necessary was it?" He asked, an apparent edge and agitation to his voice. Neo simply fluttered her eyes cutely at the agitated hireling, and grinned wider, obviously quite pleased with herself about whatever was getting beneath Alabaster's skin. The hireling, in response, closed both his eyes, breathed in deeply through his nose, then slowly out through his mouth… and opened his eyes again, a grudging calm returned to him.

"Well, you do work fast Miss Neopolitan, I must say that." He stated simply, still with a bit of an edge, before straightening up, and moving his left hand up to his tie, adjusting it slightly as he cracked his head side to side, and then rolled his shoulders back, releasing some tension.

"And speaking of work, it is time that I get back to it." He continued, back to his regular stoic calm, before looking over the ice cream girl towards the upper-right console that the dead blonde officer was draped over, then turning and walking past Neo towards the corpse.

Stepping up calmly to the body formerly known as Officer Straw, Amelia to her friends, he moved his left hand to grip it by its right shoulder.

"Pardon me." He requested calmly, then SHOVED the body off of the console, letting it crumple to the floor showing a paling face and dull blue eyes as she lay dead, while he stepped up closer to the console, moving his left hand back up and into his suit-interior at the right side.

"Thank you." He continued on, addressing the corpse that was really well past any situation where gratitude could be useful, and pulled his scroll out from his suit, standard classy black-cased affair, before slipping it into the console's insert slot. Immediately, a cascade of orange ones and zeroes began to stream down the screen of his scroll, downloading themselves into the console proper. He looked over the console's display for a moment, before moving his fingers deftly across the interface, beginning to pull images onto the display, images that looked mostly like fluctuating wavy lines in rectangles.

These 'wavy lines' were physical representations of CCTS signals. The Transmit System being the method by which Atlas, and pretty much all the kingdoms, did anything involving their advanced technology. The signals exchanged through it were constant, on numerous different frequencies, all with their own intricacies and in their own unique language. If one didn't know how to read them, they were essentially gibberish in this form. If one did, then these wavy lines on a screen could reveal WORLDS of information. Something that Junior had never understood. And yet, somehow, he had managed to wrap his thick head around opportunism. Incredible how he was only monumentally stupid when it came to things OTHER than fucking up other people's lives.

Alabaster suppressed that line of bitter thoughts before it went too far and got to work, looking over the signals to see which were the most active as his Cipher downloaded. Roman, hearing the hum of another console in use, lifted his eyes from his own and glanced back over his shoulder to Alabaster calmly examining his console's display screen.

"Huh, you playing with the console there Al, or do you actually know how to use Atlas tech?" Asked Roman, right eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"The second one Mister Torchwick, most notably their communication systems and CCTS signal tracking. It was a part of my former employment." Stated Alabaster succinctly as he continued to move his hands across the console, before looking over towards the crime lord.

"And what of yourself Mister Torchwick? Do you know how to fly this new 'toy' of yours?" He asked, gaze calm.

"Oh sure, sure." Spoke Roman, plucking his cigar from his mouth with his right hand, holding it between the index and middle finger, and waving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"I mean all Atlas tech is basically the same, so how hard could it be?" He asked, index finger of the left hand moving down to press a button.

BOOOOM!

* * *

The heavy stomps of the Goliath cracked the street beneath its feet, Beowolves and Creeps clambering about to its sides and behind it, howling and growling, lining the street as the behemoth made its way forward with the patient ruthlessness and calculating cruelty it's kind was known for. Staying back only by the command of the superior Goliath, the Beowolves and Creeps could barely contain their excitement as the Goliath used itself as a shield, and stomped its way down towards the mortal defenders of Vale, tanking shots from Atlesian rifles and small caliber rounds as it went.

At the far end of the street, holed up in a former storefront with large broken ground-floor window and a pair of broken second-tier windows, were still living defenders from the Atlesian military and Vale police force. On the ground floor, six individuals were arranged in a firing position, four at the window, and two at the door. The four at the window were, from left to right, a blue-tinted armored Atlesian soldier with rifle, a pistol-armed Vale police officer in the standard white dress shirt, suspenders, and sunglasses, another Atlesian soldier, red armored with a rifle, and another blue-tinge armored Atlesian soldier with rifle.

At the door, a brown haired faunus girl with medium-length hair, bunny ears, dark brown shirt, tan pants, and dark brown shoes on her feet, was firing out with an automatic rifle, the same type used by the White Fang actually, recovered from one of their fallen soldiers. Next to her, an Atlesian soldier in blue armor tinge was firing out as well with his sidearm, sending his blue energized burst shots down the streets with her rapid yellow impact rounds.

At the second floor, there were two to a window, an Atlesian soldier with red tinged armor holding a rifle and firing out from the left window, with another Vale police officer, suspenders, white dress shirt, tie, somewhat wild hair, and sunglasses, firing with his sidearm out of the window. And the next window over, another red tinged Atlesian soldier was making do with his pistol, firing out as the blue-tinged soldier next to him fired out with his rifle.

And of course what all these brave defenders had in common was that they were firing desperately at the oncoming Goliath, who was taking their shots like they were nothing, and continued its steady, pounding gait down to their position, savoring the futility of their last stand before it annihilated them.

The Vale officer on the ground floor grimaced, black bearded chin and cheeks following the motion, and squeezed his pistol trigger a few more times, putting another few useless rounds against the monster's hide. He knew that they couldn't bring the thing down, and that when it crashed through their defenses they'd be at the mercy of not only the giant elephant-like monstrosity, but the two-dozen or so Grimm accompanying it. He wanted to run. He wanted to run, and run, and just keep on running until he was on an airship headed out of Vale, and then he wanted to run farther because if Vale wasn't safe than nowhere was.

But if he did that, if he ran, then these Grimm would get to the civilians huddled back in the building's storeroom without even a distracting meal on the way… And if he ran and just let that happen, just let those people die afraid and undefended, then he'd never forgive himself. So he stayed there, pulling the trigger, putting another useless round into the Goliath's hide, then another, and another, and prayed to whatever Dust-giving god that was up there for some kind of miracle to save them from their oncoming death.

BOOOOM!

The high-impact shot of a Steel-Dust Artillery Round launched at a massive velocity from an Air-to-Ground Cannon on General Ironwood's personal airship struck the Goliath dead-center, cut through it like it was butter, and smashed into the street. The Goliath was split straight down the middle, a slight rearranging of its facial mask indicating surprise, before the steel shrapnel EXPLODED out in a million directions, along with an accompanying shockwave.

The metal fragments shredded through the Grimm on all sides, punching through the skin and into the houses nearby. Until those houses were hit milliseconds later by a massive shockwave of displaced air and energy, blowing out all the structures that had been around the Goliath and quite a few past those in every direction. At the same time, the shockwave sent the eviscerated and dismembered corpse parts of the Grimm flying out through the air, dissolving into black particles mid-arch, and leaving nothing but a big crater in the center of the street surrounded by collapsed buildings.

Fortunately for the defenders their shop was far back enough that they only caught the tail end of the shockwave. They ducked behind their covers, letting the dust kicked up from the force, and some pieces of metal, fly over and through into the store, gritting their teeth and shielding their ears from the accompanying boom… Then slowly, as one, they all cautiously looked out from their cover at the lonely street, Grimm disappeared and decimation clear… After a few seconds, a 'Clunk' sounded as the twisted center-section of a lamppost hit the street just a little in front of the crater. And the street was silent again.

"… Huh." Sounded the officer at the former storefront window, blinking behind his sunglasses, staring where the Goliath and raging monsters had been just a few moments ago.

"I guess I'll uh, start praying more often." He spoke, clicking his tongue slightly after the 'uh, and continuing to stare at the crater left by the shell, a sure sign of divine intervention if ever he'd seen one.

* * *

Alabaster slowly raised his left eyebrow up at Roman as the criminal mastermind cautiously lifted his finger off the button, and brought his left hand back to rub the back of his head.

"Heheheh, so, um, yeeeahhh… there a, uh, manual for this thing or something?" he muttered, looking over the buttons and sliders of the holographic interface as though they'd suddenly give up their secrets just from the looking. Neo, with a silent giggle and a roll of her eyes, stepped down the bridge stairs, over the bodies, and walked up to stand at Roman's left, right hand fishing into her pants pocket and pulling out a small green book with the Atlas emblem emblazoned on the front in white, waving it playfully in front of Roman so that he could see it. Roman's visible eye lit up as he saw the booklet.

"Ah!" The mastermind spoke as he took the booklet with his left hand and moved his cigar to the side of his mouth at the right, biting down slightly as he opened up the booklet and started flipping through it.

"Here we gooooo just having a little refresher here, nothing to worry about." Muttered Roman as he scanned over the pages, refamiliarizing himself with Atlas tech and the specifics of the airship. As he did that, Alabaster calmly and professionally repressed the panic boiling in his chest, and with a perfect poker face turned his attention back to what was more directly within his power to control. Namely, the signal-readings in front of him.

As his Cipher downloaded into the ship systems from his Scroll, the console display and interface in front of him turned from Atlas's pale green to a bright orange, the fluctuating waves presented on screen changing shade, then beginning to display secondary lines beneath the originals, with small screens opening up next to the rectangles containing scrolling numbers and letters. With a practiced eye and just as practiced patience, Alabaster began to sort through the information, moving his hands across the console interface and opening up a central rectangular window on the display, vertically stretching across its length. Calmly, he began to pull wave containing rectangles from the sides into the central window, focusing in on the more rapidly fluctuating signals.

"Okay, right, I got it, it's like an oversized Bullhead. Just with more guns. A LOT more guns. And bigger. Annnnd with a completely different control system. Easy." Muttered Roman around his cigar, nodding slightly to himself, before 'tossing' the booklet over his shoulder with his left hand, and plucking his cigar from his mouth with his right, then 'grinding' it out against the metal surface of the console.

Roman moved his hands back to the console interface in front of him, closed his eyes and cracked his neck side to side, before smirking wide, and opening his visible eye again, a dangerous glint within, fire sparking behind the iris.

"Now then, this little button opened the forward aerial view." He spoke, calmly pressing a button on the left of the console with his left index finger, causing the entire console display screen to 'glow' to life and show a wide image view of the airspace in front of the airship. It was, as one might expect, absolutely chaotic. The sky was filled with Grimm, Nevermores and Griffons, swarming about. White Fang bullheads were still in the mix, the different models firing their miniguns or rockets at the various opponents, bullets and missiles firing through the sky as the White Fang engaged the Grimm.

There didn't seem to be any Atlesian gunships present though, possibly pulled back to another location, or destroyed, Torchwick didn't really know or care. He had his fun-time targets right there in front of him. With that thought Roman smirked a little more, and brought his right hand up, index finger extended.

"And THIS little button marked 'all present targets'." He spoke, pressing his finger down to a light 'beep' that then saw every Grimm and bullhead on the screen highlighted with little red outlines, flashing statistics and analysis readouts in little boxes to the right of each image, special readouts appearing next to the Bullheads weaponry to identify the make, model, and danger levels present. Roman completely ignored that information, as he instead turned his eyes down to another button on the console.

"And this little button? Ohohoho, THIS one… lit up the world." He spoke, putting his right index finger to the button, and pressing it down.

* * *

Outside, the five huge white panels on either side of the airship suddenly 'hissed' out steam around their tops and the edges facing to the front. With a series of-

'Clink'

'Clink'

'Clink'

'Clink'

'Clink's, sounding, each of the panels consecutively opened out, tilting as the back stayed to the airship and the fronts opened up to reveal twin vertical lines of perfectly circular holes, set into the grey metal beneath by the panels. A moment after their revelation, each of the circular holes glowed red, shining out an ominous light from deep inside, and then-

SKRRREEEEEE!

Proceeded to launch a series of screaming, red glowing orbs out into the air, streaking through the sky and leaving red smoke trailing behind them, as they poured out from the airship. They did not shoot straight however. As they entered into the air they turned, and soared, towards the Grimm and bullheads, headed for their nearest marked targets. And when one struck, it did exactly what it was meant to do, and went BOOOOM! Exploding out in raging red flames born of concentrated fire dust, consuming Grimm and reducing them to ash in moments, igniting entire Bullheads with metal-melting flame, burning away the aura of the White Fang soldiers and cooking them alive inside of their Bullheads, all before causing their engines to suffer critical failures and EXPLODE.

But even that wasn't enough destruction for the spheres, oh no. For each impact, a dozen red flares STREAKED out from the exploded sphere's location, arching and tracing through the sky for targets, much as their progenitors had done, and impacting with nearly as much force, igniting Grimm and Bullhead alike with crimson fire. Burning metal, cooking flesh, and turning Grimm to ash… Turning the forces arrayed before the airship into a brilliant red pyre.

* * *

Neo clapped her hands with glee, and literally 'jumped' up and down with excitement as the airship's wide frontal view went red, shining bloody light accompanying the explosions of flame, the once vibrant sky turned from blue to crimson and filled with fire and ash and dust. It was just like a fireworks show! Only better because things were dying horribly and in agony! As for Roman himself, he had a similar reaction to the events unfolding.

"WOOHAHAHAHAHAHA! YES BABY! I AM BACK! HAHAHAHAHA!"

Alabaster looked over from his signals to his employers, smirking a bit as he saw Neopolitan hopping up and down like a giddy schoolgirl, and Roman laughing out loud at his success, obviously getting quite a bit of catharsis out of just that one act of destruction. While he wasn't quite so unreserved in his enjoyment of destruction as the criminal pair, he did have to admit, that seeing them act with such a healthy appreciation of intensely violent pyrotechnics was strangely pleasant. It did seem like they were having quite a bit of… fun.

Shaking his head with his own amused smirk, he looked back to his own display screen, back to the signals he'd focused on… … And then frowned slightly.

"Hmm? That… should not be occurring." He muttered, before pressing a few choice buttons on the interface, pulling the object of his concern, a particularly active wavelength, into focus, making it fill up the entire console display as he examined it.

While he did this, Roman recovered from his laughing fit, and shook his head with a couple chuckles still, wide grin now on his face.

"Oh! Oh I needed that. Whew, okay, let's see here, where'd that Nevermore fly off to? I'd like to 'thank' it for its attention earlier…" Spoke Roman, another spark to his eyes and a practically sadistic grin on his face as he moved his fingers to the thruster controls, and began to tilt the airship around, causing it to circle and sweeping the forward aerial view across the sky, scanning for the target of Roman's vengeance.

Meanwhile, Alabaster looked over the signal in-depth, narrowing his eyes until he was practically glaring at the display. He wanted to believe he was mistaken about what he was seeing, that he couldn't be right. But between his Cipher, and the simple fact that he knew he knew what he was doing, he was unable to do so. Despite the unsettling nature of what he was being presented with, he had to acknowledge that it was accurate. He was right, what he was seeing was happening, and it was-

"Less than optimal." he muttered, straightening up and just glaring at the signal display, white-gloved hands moving to his sides and tightening up into fists.

"Far, far less than optimal." He clarified, continuing to glare at the signal representation as though it would change just by the power of his desiring it to not be what it was.

Alabaster's commentary caught the ears of Roman and Neo both. Roman glanced back over his right shoulder, looking away from the screen which was now showing pitched battle across the skies in other places, catching glances of Atlesian gunships and White Fang Bullheads going at it as it angled back towards Vale proper. The crime lord raised his visible brow at Alabaster, while Neo hopped up on the console, sitting to Roman's left with her legs kicking out a bit as she leaned back, hands to her sides, umbrella at her right, and looked to Alabaster with a curious gaze.

"Hey, Al, what's the problem? Something wrong with my new ship here?" asked Roman, obviously putting first priority where it was needed. Alabaster looked back to the mastermind, and calmed his gaze, before turning to face the crime lord and moving his hands behind his back again.

"Aside from the battle damage? Nothing that I can see Mister Torchwick, the comm-tech is working fine." Stated Alabaster, before grimacing a bit.

"However, having used said comm-tech, I must now amend my earlier report regarding the signal broadcast during the Vytal Festival Tournament." He spoke, causing Roman to arch his brow a bit further.

"Okkkaaayyy don't make me wait for it Al spit it out we're on a deadline here." He spoke, and Alabaster, wisely choosing not to address how Roman was drawing out that deadline to try and get revenge on a Grimm, cleared his throat slightly before replying.

"Well, firstly, the signal that infected Atlas's Knights and other robotic creations did not 'broadcast', in the past tense. It is still broadcasting, actively, as we speak. I would need to examine it longer to be absolutely certain, however it appears to be receiving information from the infected robots, then redistributing it through the CCT network, and then distributing new information back to the robots… In short, it is receiving battlefield information and giving them orders, much as a general directs their forces." Spoke Alabaster, this information causing Roman's visible eye to narrow as he considered the implications.

"Hmmm, okay, not the best news ever but we're in an airship and they're on the ground so that's not exactly immediate here. What else?" He asked, glancing at the display screen in front of him and the battle thereon to check for the Giant Nevermore, before looking back to Alabaster.

"The second correction to my earlier report, Mister Torchwick, is that the signal controlling Atlas's robotic forces is not broadcasting across Vale." Spoke the pale male, as Roman raised his visible eyebrow a bit further at that.

"It is broadcasting across Remnant." Finished Alabaster. Roman blinked… then his visible eye widened. A moment later Neo's eyes did to, and turned white in the same motion, as they both grasped the full implications of that statement. Roman slowly turned away from Alabaster back to the screen in front of him, watching the Grimm, Bullheads, and Atlesian gunships battle in the sky, with a carefully detached expression.

"… … I see… remind me, how many of Atlas's troops are robotic these days?" Asked Roman slowly, to which Neo gulped, and slipped out her scroll into her left hand. She quickly and rapidly typed across it with her right hand, and then moved it down in front of Roman so that he could see. Roman glanced at the scroll, and sucked in a hiss of breath.

"Oooooohhhh… Nine robots for every human huh?" He queried to which Neo nodded slightly. Roman, slowly and almost cautiously, reached over with his right hand to the cigar he'd ground out on the console, picked it up, and put it back to his mouth, carefully starting to chew on the end of his extinguished cigar.

Silence reigned on the bridge for a few moments, before Roman moved the cigar back out from his mouth, expression remaining neutral.

"… Well f-"

SSSCCRRRRAAAAAAWWWW!

The sound of the Giant Nevermore roaring its rage, and the sight of it FILLING the forward aerial view, flying up right in front of the airship, interrupted Roman's thoughtful musings.

"Whoa!" Shouted Roman, quickly moving his hands back to the console interface and manipulating the thrusters.

The airship pulled back and down to the right, just in time as the Giant Nevermore gave a massive FLAP of its wings, and sent a hail of sharpened feathers through the air, a few 'PING'-ing off the airships side as it dodged the main hail.

The sudden shift in momentum actually saw Neo lean forward on the console to keep her balance, then hop off to allow Roman full piloting room. Roman, using the console as leverage, kept his footing easily enough, while Alabaster seemed strangely unaffected by the movement, able to keep himself straight without apparent problem.

"Oh so the big bird's come back to play huh? Wonderful." Spoke Roman, actually grinning again as he moved his right hand up and tossed his extinguished cigar aside, before bringing his right hand back down to the console.

"Now let's see here, which button was the las-" Roman started, before a- THUMP sound interrupted him, yet again he noticed with some agitation, by a noise coming from seemingly above them. Alabaster, Neo, and Roman all looked up at the noise. And the subsequent sounds coming after it.

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

THUMP

Roman narrowed his visible eye, knowing full well what those thumps meant.

"-er. Annnnnd that would be something landing on the airship. Wonderful." He spoke, this time being sarcastic at the last part, before lowering his head and sighing with a glower.

"Atlas makes a full-forward aerial view for their airships and individual target-seeking death spheres, but can't put any guns or cameras on the actual roof. World's greatest military power everyone, give them a hand!" Spoke Roman sarcastically, before glaring back to the area screen in front of him, seeing the tail feathers of the Nevermore flitting off and up-left as it maneuvered itself out of the airship's way, likely prepping for another strike from a position that Roman couldn't shoot at.

"Ugghhhh." Sounded Roman in agitation, even as another THUMP sounded from the roof, and turned to look over his left shoulder to Neo.

"Neo, go and take care of whoever that is would you?" He asked, Neo's eyes lighting up, turning to pink left and brown right, as she gave an eager nod, and turned to jog up to the upper bridge floor and over to the door. As he watched Neo move though, Roman had a thought, and turned a curious gaze back over to Alabaster, who was still standing calmly with his hands behind his back, eyes narrowed at the roof.

"Hey Al, can you fight?" he asked, the question causing Alabaster to look back down to Roman and blink in surprise… before smirking. Smirking in that scary, borderline psychotic way that Roman was used to seeing from Neo, deadly, filled with humor, and accompanied by a dark glint in the hireling's dull-white eyes.

"Yes Mister Torchwick. I can fight." He spoke, a low and predatory tone accompany his words, mixed in with a huge amount of subtle humor, as though he was catching a joke that Roman was missing. The crime lord raised his left eyebrow a little more at this response, then just shook his head with a grunt and raised his right hand, waving Alabaster off.

"Well great then glad to hear it, go help Neo clear out the stowaways. I'm going to do some bird hunting." Spoke Roman, eye narrowing once more as he moved his hands to the interface, and began turning it back up and left, trying to track the Giant Nevermore.

Alabaster, despite no longer being watched by the crime lord, calmly moved his right hand forward and around to his chest, palm over the heart, and bowed forward slightly.

"Of course Mister Torchwick." He stated simply, before straightening, turning and walking over towards the comm console. Calmly he 'plucked' his Scroll from the device with his left hand, Cipher having already downloaded, and slid it closed as he proceeded towards the sliding door, slipping it into his inner-right suit pocket.

Neo, who had stopped at the now-opened sliding door, waited curiously as Roman addressed Alabaster, then watched the hireling as he approached. She stood, with a smirk on her lips, a cocky glint to her eyes, and her left hand on her hip as she looked up at the taller suited male walking up to her. As he stopped and stood in front of her, she tilted her head up to meet his eyes, and smirked a little wider. Her eyes seemed to shine as they gazed into his, sharing a message with him, a message that said 'Bet you that you can't kill more than me. Bet you that you can't even keep up with me'.

Alabaster gave Neopolitan a wry smile in response to her silent message, and bowed forward slightly, his right forearm moving to cross his stomach with the palm of his right hand upwards towards the doorway, as though offering it to the smaller ice cream lady.

"After you, Miss Neopolitan." He spoke simply. Neo, smirked a little more, then turned and walked through, practically sashaying out, ready to get to killing. Alabaster straightened himself up as she left, moved his right hand back behind his back, and followed her out calmly, letting the door slide closed behind them as they went to take care of business.

Roman sighed out as the henchwoman and henchman left to deal with his newest headache, and narrowed his eyes at the screen in front of him as he kept scanning for the Giant Nevermore that had dodged from his view. And as he did so, he thought on some things.

"Soooooooooo… robot apocalypse huh? Can't say that I saw that one coming. Honestly at least." He admitted to himself, before letting out a sigh, shaking his head and looking back to the screen with a grim expression.

"Well, as far as end of the world scenarios go this is one of the worst. Knocked the Grimm right off their perch as humanity's scary existence-ending threat. And unless they've got something particularly nasty in the works, I don't think they're going to be getting that spot back anytime soon…" He muttered, narrowing his eyes as he continued to scan the horizon.

* * *

Far away, on the side of a particular mountain known for tragedy and death, looming over the ruins of a failed expansion, a little crack appeared… Tiny, small, insignificant in the overall structure of the mountain. And then that tiny crack widened just a little, lengthened a little more… and slowly started to spread…

* * *

.

(And hello again! So, I'm still working on figuring some things out with formatting and the like, I like the horizontal line option however I'm wondering if there aren't some more fun ways to separate my sections or the like... Ah, however, to a closer point. I'm not good at individually responding to people, I do it sometimes however for the most part I'm silent. However, I read and appreciate reviews and want more of them. SO! I'm going to try something and start responding them to here in the bottoms of these chapters, to address your thoughts and so that you know I actually read them. For this one starting out, I'll do both Chapter 1 and 2, and then for those that follow, I'll do it for the reviews left on the previous chapter only. Hope this is good!

To, _CoolHandJaune_ : Thank you! I'm glad you enjoy, and intend to continue it!

To, _AnAustralianGamer_ : I'm glad that it picked up for you, and hope that it entertains as things go forward! Thank you for sticking around.

To, _Lord of Tuft_ : Thank you very much! And I'm glad you excited, hope it continues to keep your attention and entertain.

To, _Kid Lanterns Legacy_ : Thank you, I'm glad that you are enjoying my O.C. and find my presentation of Roman accurate! I do intend to keep it up, and I hope you find the shenanigans, when they occur, entertaining.

To, _New Universe Returns_ : Well, I don't plan to kill off our dear Roman... put him into life-threatening situations and give him plenty of headaches? Absolutely. But not kill him. In fact, what I intend for him in this story, and Neo for that matter, is very much in line with the song 'Empire' from Monster High: Boo York. Lovely little piece of music, I rather enjoy it, and it may be treated as a glimpse of the future for these criminals...

To, _LoveForeverNow_ : Ooooh, I like how you said that, and it makes me smile that you call my Alabaster a gentleman, he does try. And I'm very glad! I hope that the story continues to be entertaining for you!)


	4. Chapter 4: No Seriously, Thank You Atlas

(So, this took me longer than planned, and I didn't get nearly as far as I wanted. Also, I'm nowhere near as confident in it as I usually am because I wanted to get this out and not make people wait yet another month before I had the presence of mind and focus to work on it again. So, fun!

Last chapter numerous comments addressed how I describe actions for my action scenes, so I'm trying something different. Better, worse, no idea what I'm talking about? Feedback is as always appreciated!

Anyways, I hope that it's entertaining regardless of flaws, please enjoy!)

* * *

The sky shone red as the sun began to set on Remnant. The heavens were filled with fire, shot from rotating barrels and launched from rocket tubes, turning Grimm to ash and sending gunship and bullhead alike spiraling down in streams of flaming wreckage. Ash struck back against metal, as the Nevermores ripped wings off of gunships and rammed through bullheads, while Griffins tore through cockpits and dragged out the pilots, the latter screaming as they were torn apart or swallowed whole. Below the hunters prowling the skies, Vale was as a lit funeral pyre, burning bright, and signaling the terminal end of an entire people, with a roaring flame that poured smoke into the heavens.

Or at least that was what Alabaster made of it, eyes turning across the spectacular view from atop the airship, a gentle smile on his face as he observed the chaos all around with a practically poetic mindset.

"And the sun descends on Vale. Light the sky with fire and shroud the world in night, for this is how a Kingdom dies." He spoke gently to himself, before shaking his head, and turning around to look down an opened hatch on the Airship's roof, ladder going down to a hallway beneath, eyes again finding something to fixate on, though this something was considerably smaller than the subject of his previous viewing.

"Ah, my apologies Miss Neopolitan. The roof access is clear, for the moment at least." He spoke simply, offering his right hand down to the ice-cream lady as her head made it up past the hatch. She looked up at him with a smirk, and took his hand with her right, stepping up the rest of the ladder, her umbrella hung by its hook on her left forearm as she ascended. She walked up from the last rung, heels clicking against the roof of the airship as she arrived, still smirking, before calmly moving her right heel back to kick the hatch close, letting it thud down as she daintily took her hand from Alabaster's, and transferred it to her parasol.

She then swung her umbrella up and over to rest on her right shoulder while her left hand moved to the handle beneath her right, holding her trusted weapon calmly with both hands as she and Alabaster both turned to look across the main roof section of the ship, the 'landing strip' part of it for lack of a better descriptor. Alabaster didn't exactly have the field manual on standard Atlesian Airship design and terminology to work with.

"Unfortunately the same cannot be said for the remainder of the ship." Continued the hireling, as he and his first employer both observed the rest of the vessel's surface… It was quite busy.

A group of Atlesian soldiers with green and yellow color markings moved up in formation, about eight in total, five arrayed in a curving arch at the front with three behind who, in a more spread-out formation, made a semi-circle, closing the group from all angles. It was a fairly standard Atlesian trooper combat formation for fighting Grimm, with the front curve serving to fire at all targets in front, and the soldiers behind keepings eyes to the sides and back to prevent Grimm from landing and coming up on the group from behind. And they **all** kept an eye to the skies, firing as Grimm left from the above and whatever else they were pursuing to come down and assault them as fresh prey.

It was a good choice of formation, considering that they had something on every side to shoot at. White-energized bursts impacted Griffins and Nevermores scattered across the surface of the vessel, busy ripping at metal and tearing at wires before-hand, now turning their focus onto the oncoming soldiers. Constant fire put down the smaller Nevermores and turned them into ash, but seemed only to just hold back the Griffins, sending some to flight, and encouraging another particularly large one to charge. The front curve shifted their combined fire onto the big Griffin which seemed to slow it, but Griffins were tough by nature, and it kept up the charge, roaring its displeasure as it lunged to close with the line. It was unlikely that it was going to be dropped before it reached the soldiers.

"Hm. Well, looks like this might be sorting itself ou-" started Alabaster, before an Atlesian Gunship seemed to _burst_ up from underneath the side of the airship, to Neo and Alabaster's right, and jerk itself across the length of the ship and into position over the advancing soldier formation. The barrels of the gunship's twin miniguns spun, and a torrent of fire rained down from the triple barrels, streaking flare-lit rounds _smacking_ into the charging Gryphon, heavy-hitting armor-piercing ammunition sending it roaring back and down onto the surface of the airship, where it went quiet and began to disintegrate into ash.

Alabaster blinked, then 'snapped' his mouth shut mid-sentence, before speaking again.

"Ah. Never mind then." He stated simply, as Neo moved her left hand up to her mouth and let her shoulders shake with a silent giggle. The formation resumed its movement forward, taking pot-shots at the flying Grimm that tried to come down onto them or the ship again, keeping the long landing way clear as the supporting gunship turned in the air behind the advancing formation, lowered itself down slightly, and opened the ramp.

Six more Atlesian soldiers hopped out, guns raised, fanning out in a half-circle in front of the ramp, aiming all about to make sure that no Grimm were approaching. Then, two more passengers exited, far more interesting than the standard soldier fair.

The one stepping out at the left, at least to Neo and Alabaster's distant view, was a man. A man with light brown skin, green eyes, and mostly grey hair that was neatly cut and somewhat squareish, with the part near his ears black, along with his eyebrows and a fancy slim mustache. He wore a captain's uniform, white with shoulder pads, chest-pinned commendations, some intricate patterning up to the collar, blue armband on the left arm, and fancy white gloves all. Frankly, he looked pretty great for a man that was part of a military that had failed literally every objective they'd come to Vale with.

He was armed with a pistol in his left hand, one of the standard sidearms for Atlesian soldiers likely grabbed quickly from a subordinate, and more interestingly, a rapier in his right. It was a beautiful looking thing, even from back at Neo and Alabaster's view, they could tell how fancy it was. Silver cylindrical handle that looked like waves of water spiraling down, hilt in the shape of a white-metal dove with its wings spread, sword guard that looked like a white swan with its wings spread and brought around to make a curved guard, and long-neck bending down to nearly touch the hilt, and form a protection for the fingers. Then after all of this the blade, stretching up as an elegant thin but lethal weapon, shining silver by appearance, made to pierce but sharpened at either edge to slice if need be.

Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as the girl who hopped out to his left, at Alabaster and Neo's right view. She was darker skinned, with blue eyes, and short black hair grown longer at the left, going down nearer to the shoulder. Her arms were covered by fingerless long cloth gloves that went up to a bit past her elbow, and she wore a white buttoned up shirt with gold buttons, all the way to a high collar, with a black cloth sash around her waist, and a blue skirt with gold trimming going down. She wore a set of very high, almost thigh-high socks that appeared to be made of a somewhat hard material, with black shoes upon her feet. She seemed to have gold buttons on… actually quite a few of these articles of clothing, notably up the outer sides of her socks, with a couple more on her gloves near the wrists. And in the center of her forehead was what appeared to be some form of ornamentation, with a golden sphere in the center of four other smaller spheres, one to the North, South, East, and West, all close by. And all of it was topped off by a blue beret upon her head.

The only thing that didn't quite fit with her fashion choices was a watch, grey metal with a cyan watch face, on her left wrist, the only thing there that didn't match up to her clothing scheme. Which meant it was probably the most important thing she had on her.

As these two slightly different looking individuals hit the airship roof, the gunship that dropped them closed up its ramp, turned right in the air, and jetted away, likely responding to some other emergency that needed its close fire support more than a troop-drop. Even as it did so, the soldiers nearby stayed in a six-wide troop circle, before a barking order came from the male, too far away for Neo and Alabaster to grasp the details, and they began to advance, while he and the blue-bereted female stayed back for a moment, turning to talk with one another, in what looked like some sort of urgent discussion, with the female tapping her watch for some reason.

It was fairly apparent who these people were of course, at least in terms of ranking and position in the Atlas hierarchy. Neo, in particular, had the benefit of being intimately educated in Atlesian military protocol, and her observation and infiltration during the Vytal Festival Tournament made the identification even easier. The man was a Captain, obviously, possibly the only one left. After all, Neo had personally made sure they were down one ranked official, with a particularly sadistic glee at the time she might add. And the other was an Atlas student from the Academy proper, brought over to participate in the tournament. Neo could have figured that one out even if she hadn't seen her fighting in the robot girl's team. But what did it really mean to see them there? Well, mainly, that Neo might actually enjoy herself.

Before those two had exited Neo had been particularly annoyed at the turn-out. Yes yes, Atlas, world's foremost military power, blah blah blah. She could gag from the rhetoric and the chest-pounding those play soldiers liked to spout out. The truth was that since Atlas made its robots do all the fighting there weren't many in their rank and file these days who actually knew how to kill people. Grimm, oh sure, that just takes a bit of discipline and teamwork, things that Atlas droned into its soldier boys pretty damn well. But people? The closest they tended to get with fighting actual people was during police actions, and even then usually to stun or restrain. Most of them hesitated to pull the trigger, if only for a moment, when the enemy first walked into their sight and that combined with a lack of proper combat experience tended to get them killed. Neo could attest to that fun little fact first-hand.

Yeah, she was more than capable of killing whole squads of Atlas soldiers without batting an eyelash, on any day of any week. Especially Sunday. Neo liked Sundays. The point was that all those rank and file rifles equaled boring for Neo, and she didn't like that at all. No. She **hated** that to **DEATH**. But the Captain? Now _he_ would have been through some of the more advanced combat training regimes in their Combat Schools, he probably wasn't going to be a challenge, definitely not if the last Captain was anything to go by, but he'd probably last long enough to keep Neo entertained. And the girl? Oh Academy students were always fun. So confident, so smug, so determined with their youthful idealism. And then Neo ripped it all apart, making those eyes fill with fear and pain, before she snuffed them out forever, sometimes over the course of hours… Oh yes, little Miss Blue over there could be lots of fun for Neo.

Of course all those soldiers would get in the way when she tried to have her fun. Shouting something heroic sounding probably then opening fire, and she'd have to dodge and dance and kick instead of getting to focus on-

Neo's eyes both went wide and turned pink as her thought line was interrupted to be replaced with an utterly _brilliant_ idea strutting into her head. Slowly, with a Cheshire-cat like grin, she turned her view away from the Captain and the student to Alabaster, who was looking at the advancing Atlas soldiers with narrowed eyes, right hand pulling down on the wrist of his left glove slightly, tightening it up a little.

Alabaster felt the eyes on him only after a moment, and then turned his gaze to look to Neopolitan, meeting her gaze with his own. He slowly raised his right eyebrow as he saw the downright creepy stare she was giving him, his left hand moving to his right glove and tugging it down at the wrist, helping tighten it up a bit.

"I get the distinct feeling Miss Neopolitan that you have just thought of something that involves me doing something that I would rather not do." He stated bluntly, to which Neo gave a quick and excited nod of her head, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Hm. Well, please do enlighten me quickly Miss Neopolitan." Stated Alabaster simply, looking back to the oncoming soldiers and flexing the fingers of both hands, while shaking his wrists out slightly, making sure they were appropriately limber.

"They'll stop looking everywhere but up here and actually notice us any second now that the Grimm are clearing away." He spoke, a bit dryly as he observed the approaching men. He wasn't particularly pleased with what he saw.

Slight jerking of the guns when aiming, off-pace rapid step from the one to the immediate left of the front before catching himself and stepping back into time, an ever-so-subtle tremor here and there amongst the advancing troops… The proper term was FNGs Alabaster believed. Fresh meat, raw recruits, held back for routine ship maintenance and guarding on whatever airships Atlas still had in the sky, and only being deployed now because they were literally all that was left to try and take this airship back. It was practically tragic how they were about to be wasted. He had to wonder how many of them were teenagers under that armor.

Miss Neopolitan somehow managed to grin even wider, and raised her umbrella up to point towards the advancing combatants, while her left hand extended to point a single finger towards him.

"You want me to take care of the frontline soldiers?" He asked simply, to which she nodded, then lifted her umbrella up a little higher. Now it pointed towards the second group of six, who had moved into a similar formation as the front group with four in front and two in back to keep a watch out.

"And the second line soldiers." Continued the hireling, frowning ever-so-slightly.

"And what shall you be doing while I handle Atlas's finest, pray-tell?" He asked, before Neo lifted her umbrella up just a little more, to point towards the Captain and the blue bereted student who seemed to have just finished whatever they were discussing and were starting to move forward, significantly back from the second line. Neo then turned her left hand back to point to herself, to make sure there were no doubts, and kept the grin all the while. Alabaster let his features relax into a wry expression, grasping her meaning.

"So you'll be fighting with the Captain and the student. I see. I am to handle the basic infantry so that you may have fun with the more skilled opponents without interruption." He spoke, and Neo gave a chipper nod as she blinked a few times, and her eyes went to left brown and right pink, happy that Alabaster had picked up on her intent.

Alabaster sighed lightly, and looked forward, moving his right and left hands both up to his tie and straightening it slightly. Professional appearance was important after all; it wouldn't do to enter into a pitched battle to the death looking like a vagabond.

"Very well. I'll keep our less interesting guests clear of your 'play time'." He spoke, running his eyes over his soon to be opponents and doing some quick calculations in his head, examinations letting him chart the course in his mind. Even as he did this however Neo beamed a bright smile, a smile that might have been cute if not for the very clear sadism inherent in it. She then tucked her umbrella under her left arm, and moved her right hand to 'tap' him on the arm. This caused him to look at her again, his right eyebrow raised again in question, as she smugly moved her right hand back and 'tapped' her own cheek with her right index finger, leaning forward with her chin up.

It took Alabaster a moment to comprehend, before his mind clicked in understanding, and he smirked just a little himself.

"Ah, of course. It will be my pleasure." He stated simply, before lifting his left hand up in a fist, and _punching_ out with it, smacking straight into Neo's cheek.

A _shatter_ sounded with the motion. Not a thud or a grunt or a cracking of teeth, but a _shatter_ as Neopolitan's form disappeared in a fractured falling of mirror-like shards, disappearing almost as soon as they scattered. Alabaster moved his hands back to straighten his tie again slightly, and then looked away from where Neo had been as-

"Hey you, up there! Identify yourself!" Sounded out from a soldier in the advancing frontline who had finally noticed Alabaster's existence. The pale-skinned hireling took a breath in through his nose, then slowly out through his mouth… and clicked the heel of his right shoe against the heel of his left, tapping twice.

Wind Dust began circulating through his soles from the second cache, mixing with some remnants of the first he'd used earlier, and in a _burst_ of gusting air he leapt from near the hatch, well over the heads of the first line of soldiers, to about mid-way between them and the second on the ship.

His feet hit the metal surface of the airship, gusts of air dissipating from the impact point, as the first line quickly turned to aim their rifles at him, front curve turning and folding back with the group behind to make an eight-man semi-curve of leveled Atlesian rifles. The second line, seeing this, quick-stepped forward into range and brought the back up to the front to make a six-man curve of pointed rifles, putting fourteen guns on the hireling. In a world of elite combatants using incredible powers, there was no such thing as too cautious.

Alabaster for his part allowed himself a smirk at successfully gaining the attention of both firing lines, before standing straight, legs together, and hands behind his back. Calmly he slowly started to turn, looking around to the soldiers with their guns pointed at him, as his right hand raised itself up from behind... and calmly plucked his hat from his head.

"Gentlemen, greetings." He addressed the soldiers, giving a slight nod as he continued to turn slowly, the only drawback of being surrounded for him being that it made politely addressing his opponents a slightly more ridiculous affair.

"My name is Alabaster Flatly." He continued, placing his fedora over his heart and bowing forward slightly, head remaining tilted up to keep his eyes on the men around him, albeit separated by many feet in each direction, as he continued to turn slowly.

"And I will be serving as your opponent this evening. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintances." He stated plainly, straightening up and calmly _plop_ -ing his hat back onto his head.

Soldiers from both lines looked to one another, a sort of 'is this guy for real' look being shared. This was when they should have, of course, been closing in to initiate combat. Alabaster smiled a wry closed-lipped smile, and bit back a sigh as his right hand moved into the left fold of his suit at the chest, reaching for a very particular holster while keeping himself turning, eyes moving over the men around him. Like feeding babies to a shark…

 **THUD**

Alabaster blinked slightly as a griffin hit the metal roof of the airship, within the circle of guns, and only a couple feet away from him, lifting itself up, spreading its beak, and letting out a-

" **Rrrooaaarrr!"** Of some strength and agitation.

Alabaster raised his right eyebrow at the interloper, a 'really?' apparent in the look. The griffin, obviously eager to enact its own plans for slaughter and mayhem regardless of the pale hireling's opinions, then proceeded to charge straight at the man, claws forward and beak open, launching itself into an attack. Alabaster, keeping a calm gaze locked on the approaching monster, waited for it to get a little closer. And then his right leg _shot_ forward and up, _striking_ the griffin beneath its beaked chin with enough force to not only stop its charge, but knock its head back and start its ascent up into the air.

Before it could rise any significant distance however, that same leg moved blurred around in a right-up curve from the impact point, and placed itself, sole flat and ankle bent, on top of the griffin's head. For a moment, the extreme flexibility and balance of Alabaster was apparent as his right leg remained fully extended, his left straight and supporting his body, right hand in the folds of his suit with his left hand still behind his back, the entire position looking rather awkward. And then he pushed his foot down.

Another **thud** sounded, not as loud as the griffin's landing but in some ways more impressive, as Alabaster slammed the griffin's head into the metal with his foot, the force of the impact giving off a visible shimmer as the griffin's skull cracked and the fire burned out from its eyes. Alabaster calmly removed his foot from the creature as it began to disintegrate, then grimaced as he saw the griffin-head sized dent he'd just made in the airship's roof, becoming ever-more apparent as the monster turned to ash.

"Right, the floor is also the ship. I must restrain myself, it would not do to unnecessarily damage Mister Torchwick's property." Muttered Alabaster, gently chiding his own person as he gripped his right hand around a pair of short sleek black metal cylinders, held by a small holster hidden in his suit, and withdrew them.

Calmly he moved one to his left hand, then brought them both down as the click and whir of miniaturization tech sounded, unlocking and extending the weapons, long metal cylinders extending out horizontally below the first two, revealing Alabaster's weapons of choice…

The Night Clubs were a pair of twin black tonfa, sleek, metallic bludgeoning tools designed to swing, hit, or block, as Alabaster required. Aside from an engraved fancy silver _W_ on the right side of the right tonfa, on the weapon's body below the handle, and an equally fancy silver _T_ on the left side of the left tonfa beneath its handle, nothing particularly distinguishing seemed to be upon them.

This was by design. The sleek tonfa, individually dubbed Waltz and Tango, had some fairly simple yet appropriately brutal surprises hidden in their design, that could allow for a deliciously unexpected 'sucker punch' to be delivered whenever Alabaster needed it. There was also an aspect slightly breaking the sleekness that someone could notice if they were observant. Namely, six small oval bumps up at the tops of the weapon handles, around a rim which, on closer inspection, was a separated cap over the rest of the handle, made to turn easily with pressure from Alabaster's thumb. This let him slot the ovals, each filled with raw Dust, into position to release their loads into tubes running along the interior of his weapons, activating when pressed in, making the Clubs far more versatile than they appeared.

That was all beyond their appearance however. And frankly, Alabaster doubted that he'd be needing much from them aside from their ability to whack peoples' various body parts with the appropriate levels of force. Alabaster swung Waltz up, spinning it by the handle lightly with his right hand, then swung it left to right, and brought it back to his side. He then calmly did the same with Tango, swinging it up, spinning it lightly, then swinging it right to left, before letting it drop by his side. He then rolled his shoulders back, cracked his head side to side, and looked up and around to the soldiers who, instead of doing the sensible thing and charging, were still watching him, apparently some slack-jawed from the griffin incident.

"My apologies for the delay. Shall we begin?" Asked the hireling… and then Atlas's finest opened fire.

* * *

Lagging behind the main advance wasn't something that Captain Oakwood or Ciel Soleil had particularly wanted to do, but they'd had to resolve an argument, one that they'd had since before boarding the gunship. It was better to have the majority of it outside of the hearing of the men, where they could finish it without making morale even worse for the rank and file than it had to be already. Losing most of your comrades and failing to protect an entire city on the day celebrating peace was something of a 'downer' to put it in the mildest possible terms.

Captain Oakwood had every reason to believe that he was the last Airship Captain in Vale. In fact, he had reason to believe that he may very well have been the highest ranking officer still alive in the Atlesian military, if the scattered communications they'd gotten from Atlas were any indication. But his thoughts were far more locally focused at the moment. Blue Three was gone, crashed and burned courtesy of the White Fang Bullheads and a metric fuck-ton of missiles. The last he'd seen of it the vessel had been on a collision path for Vale, nose pointed somewhere inside of the city as its engines blew and fires raged across the hull. Busy fending off the White Fang's attacks on their own airship, neither Oakwood nor his troops had seen where it hit, and there was so much fire and smoke in Vale right now that they couldn't even FIND the wreckage. A damn airship had gone missing and they had no idea where it was in the brutal inferno that was raging below. No hope of retrieval for the crew. No gunships to spare to find them and even try to get them out. Chow for the Grimm.

As for Blue Two, General Ironwood's personal airship, it had gone dark comparatively recently, a brief and panicked message from Captain Straw saying that they were boarded being the last communication received from the ship. The sharp, pained scream she gave before the audio cut out was something that would haunt Oakwood for the rest of his life. He knew it wasn't the Knights. All three ships had reported successfully fending off their hacked robotic soldiers, and he'd heard no rifle fire at the end. Someone else had killed Amelia. At first he'd thought it was the White Fang, then the Airship had sprung to life and annihilated everything in the sky around it, including the White Fang Bullheads. It quickly became apparent that someone else was to blame. And Oakwood knew of only one other person who could have taken over an airship, a passenger who, if he somehow escaped from his cellblock, might very well be able to take the bridge.

Oakwood wasn't a vengeful man by nature. Did he want to kill that vagabond who hijacked Blue Two, the entirety of the White Fang, whoever hacked their robots, and every damn Grimm in the whole of Remnant? Absolutely. But that wasn't why he was here now. With the loss of two airships, the majority of Atlas's remaining gunships had pulled back to defend Blue Four, sacrificing ground support and evacuation in the city to keep the last major bastion of Atlas's air power in Vale afloat. It was a tactical decision, even if it might keep some pilots awake at night wondering how many people they left to die to do it. Blue Four was the only ship left with the kind of firepower to smash Goliaths on the ground and Giant Nevermores in the skies, prioritizing attacking the large, stronger Grimm that the ground forces just couldn't handle. And with the gunships around it intercepting what White Fang Bullheads remained, and gunning down the smaller Grimm in the skies, they had a good chance of providing that necessary continuous fire-support, and sparing more and more of their munitions to clear out large Grimm clusters on the ground as well.

But if Blue Two could be retrieved, then all those chances increased. The skies could be cleared and the Grimm on the ground could be decimated with targeted fire. Getting that second airship into position to help was the best chance Vale, Atlas, everyone had to make it out of this alive. And that was why Captain Oakwood had gotten together what soldiers he could and requisitioned a pair of gunships to make a boarding action.

Now Ciel Soleil did not disagree with the Captain when it came to Blue Two's potential usefulness. However, she felt that he was far too quick in his attempt to retake the ship, that he had poor timing. Now her judgment might have been off a bit. She had personally had a… bad day. Her schedule was completely destroyed and that was quite literally the least terrible thing that had happened. She had no idea where Penny even was anymore, all the robots had gone crazy, and it had taken her a fight through the Amity Coliseum, and then the city to get back to Blue Four, along with a small group of soldiers. And when the Captain had insisted on this tactic she had argued with him about it, more than she'd ever argued with any authority figure in the entirety of her life, and gone along to not only keep arguing, but because she was desperately trying to keep him and his men alive. She didn't want to watch something else that was right and properly placed in the world get destroyed. So yes, perhaps she was biased against dangerous action at the moment. However, she did know that the actions were dangerous, perhaps more dangerous than the Captain realized.

She already knew who had taken the airship, and most things about him. Roman Torchwick, self-styled 'Criminal Mastermind', with too many crimes to list, including numerous noticeable heists, recently responsible for aiding the White Fang in an attack on the city proper, and notoriously effective thief in the Vale underworld. There was nothing in his record that suggested he couldn't take on a squad of soldiers and a Captain. Which was part of why she'd gone along with the operation. As an Atlas Academy student, she had access to better combat training than any of them would have ever gotten, perhaps enough to turn the tide in a direct conflict.

His presence wasn't the only reason she was calling for caution however. There was better timing for this move, timing that could make it less dangerous. Just recently the remaining Atlesian forces in Vale had received reports of the White Fang and Grimm both being driven away from Beacon, the student body there scoring a victory with much of its fighting power still intact. The reports around the White Fang's abandonments were strange, that they had become disorganized on the attack and even more so on the retreat, and Ciel's detail oriented mind couldn't help but wonder why. However, whatever the reasoning there, the Beacon Academy Students had pushed the attackers out of Beacon, and had begun to rally to distribute support across a city that was in dire need of it.

And that was the crux of her argument with the Captain. She'd been trying to convince Oakwood to wait and call in help from Beacon to take the ship, but he'd insisted that with Blue Two starting to fire its weaponry no time could be wasted, that an intervention was needed immediately. They'd argued the matter, loudly, up until they boarded the gunship, at which Ciel silenced herself only for the sake of the soldiers' morale. She had immediately resumed her argument with the Captain upon landing.

And she had _finally_ convinced Oakwood to at least call in for support, now that he was actually here. And much to Ciel's relief, they'd received confirmation from a group of students quickly after, exactly twenty-one seconds actually. With their section of air mostly cleared by Blue Two's choice to decimate everything in front of it, the faculty felt confident enough to let a student team approach, and a Beacon Bullhead was headed towards them now. That alleviated Ciel's nerves somewhat, and while she knew the Captain wouldn't wait for them to enter the ship, at least they'd have back-up from combat experts. And while the Captain didn't like a teenager questioning his command so verbally, he acknowledged that she had a point. He couldn't wait, but it wasn't a bad idea to get some help on the way, so he'd begrudgingly made the call after they landed.

After they had 'finally' gotten that settled, they both started to move with the advance to get into the ship. And noticed fairly quickly that the advance had seemed to stop. They both frowned at that, though only Ciel got a twisting feeling in her gut. That wasn't supposed to happen. Every time something that wasn't supposed to happen, happened, someone died. It was the only reliable pattern to emerge over the course of the day. The fact that the line was arranged in a firing formation didn't calm her nerves any. The Captain was about to step forward and investigate, via a loud shouting question, when Ciel's gut-feelings were replaced with a sharp and sudden chill tingling up her spin.

Trusting her reflexes and warning senses, the teenager spun around and- got a high-heeled boot to her face. Aura turned what would have been a nose shattering, possibly brain-piercing hit from the heel into a pure impact strike that simply made her let out a 'ah!' of pain, and sent her flying back a few feet onto her back against the metal surface of the airship.

The Captain spun around as soon as he heard Ciel's cry, left hand rising and finger pulling the trigger on his pistol in the same motion. A pair of bright shots left the barrel's gun, only to go over the head of Neopolitan as she ducked down, slid forward across the airship's surface under the shots, and gracefully rose to _kick_ her right leg out into Oakwood's gut, smirk on her face for the entire motion.

The Captain let out a gasp, spittle flying from his mouth as Neo's hit to his center robbed him of air, the heavy blow hurting so much more than he'd thought it could, even through his aura. How could someone so small hit so hard!?

Neo, instead of answering the Captain's unvoiced query, ducked under his left arm as the Captain continued to pull the pistol trigger, now on reflex, shooting out two more bright rounds uselessly into the metal roof as the ice cream killer got behind him. With an utterly smug expression on her face, Neo brought her umbrella around, right hand near its tip and left at the main body of her parasol, to hook it's handle around Oakwood's left wrist, and with a turn of her own wrists, trapped and pulled his hand with her umbrella handle, ducking as she moved forward and threw him off balance with his pistol turned towards Ciel, his finger still pressing the trigger.

Ciel finished rising from her downed position on the aircraft, only to see blazing bullets headed her way. Eyes widened, the Atlas student quickly cartwheeled the right, letting the shots fly into the air, then back flipped out of the way of further rounds, as Neo kept pulling and twisting the Captain's wrist to aim the pistol towards Ciel, jerky fire going wide. The pistol finally stopped shooting as Neo pulled the wrist all the way around so that Oakwood's arm was crossed over his body and pressed up against his own throat, Neo standing with her back pressed into the Captain's, watching Ciel as she finished back flipping. The blue-bereted girl landed a few feet away in a crouch, close to the ground, left hand on the surface of the airship palm-flat and fingers-spread while her right hand was out to her right, fingers curled into a fist. She caught her breath for just a moment, then lifted her head to look at Neo, eyes narrowed in anger.

Neo grinned. This was exactly the kind of fun she'd been looking for. Easy as could be, she kicked her right leg back into the Captain's left, knocking his foot out from under him as she pulled forward with her arms and back, and 'threw' him over her head by the handle around his left wrist, his left hand grip loosening and pistol flying away in the same movement.

Captain Oakwood hit the airship roof and rolled towards Ciel, grunting in pain as he did so, teeth gritted to stop himself from full-on shouting. Ciel's eyes widened slightly and she quickly rushed to him, kneeling down next to Oakwood as he stopped rolling. She quickly moved to help him up to his feet, wrapping her hands around his left arm and pulling him up, looking over the limb to see if it was broken anywhere, and then sparing a relieved glance for the sword still clutched tightly in his right hand. He could still fight. She looked back to their attacker, who now stood straight, smug as could be, left hand resting on her hip while her right hand gripped her umbrella just below the center.

The Captain panted as Ciel let go of his left arm and his left hand moved to his stomach, wincing as he managed to get steady on his feet. Ciel stepped away to his left to give them both some room, her left foot moving forward and her right foot staying back, her right hand clenched in a fist at her side while her left hand coming up in a fist in front of her own body as she continued to stare at the ice cream killer.

"Neopolitan." She spoke, her voice calm despite the shiver that was still going down her spine. Neo blinked at that, surprised that the girl knew her name. The Captain was somewhat surprised to, and turned his gaze over to Ciel with his brows furrowed. She ignored them both and continued.

"Alias or real name? Unknown. Age unknown, location of birth, unknown. Employment, professional assassin for hire." Ciel spoke, then grimaced.

"Status, wanted in every Kingdom for multiple high-profile homicides." Neo actually stood up a bit straighter at that and 'beamed' with pride when she heard that. It was nice to know that she was wanted!

Ciel looked back towards the Captain, who was still breathing a bit heavily, and met his eyes.

"It is approximately eleven minutes and twenty-seven seconds before reinforcements arrive." She stated succinctly, as Oakwood calmed his breathing, and straightened up a bit more, gripping his sword tighter. Looking towards Neo with a glare of anger and wounded pride, mixed with a very real need to remove her as a threat, he brought his left foot back while his right hand moved forward, rapier pointed at an angle up and forwards, his eyes locked onto his assailant.

"Then we'd better hold her off till then." He spoke bluntly, gritting his teeth as he looked straight at the small, cute, inhumanly sadistic murderess. Ciel nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat, and lowered her body just a little more, narrowing her eyes further, as the spheres on her forehead began to glow gold…

Neo grinned, her left eye going pink and right going brown, as she kept her left hand on her waist and umbrella in her right, very happy with how this was turning out so far. And that grin only widened as white-blue flashes accompanied the sound of rifle fire back several feet away from her and her new playthings…

* * *

Roman was no fool. Even the people who hated his hot-tempered guts could attest to that. He had a healthy appreciation for vengeance of course, what right-thinking person didn't? But he had no intention of staying hovering over Vale with packs of Grimm all around, a robot apocalypse, and both White Fang and Atlas types probably real eager to get their hands on the airship he was flying. So why was he scanning the skies with a narrowed eye, keeping his hands at the controls and gazing for a very particular Nevermore with an itchy trigger-finger? Because it had almost certainly fixated. Grimm could get really selective about their targets, even causing them to ignore other potentially easier or obvious targets in favor of something they'd decided to pursue. Roman relished the chance to take that bird down, he did. But he wasn't just doing it for the kick of paying it back for earlier, he was doing it because if he didn't kill the damn thing it would follow the ship wherever he tried to go with it, with the intention of killing him inside of it of course.

So he was working on preventing that. With the engines keeping the airship moving at a steady pace away from the city, he was also pulling up the sensors from every angle he could access, front, side, and back views all, keeping an eye on the split four-screen display in front of him for any signs of his giant feathered friend. While doing so, he did his utmost to ignore the thuds and clangs from above, as the sounds of people on his ship were a little too audible. What kind of sheet metal was that roof made of anyways to let the sound carry like that? Was it by design? Did some engineer say 'hey, let's not put any sensors or guns up there, but let's totally make it so that you can hear it whenever something hits the roof! Every single fucking time! That's so much better than being able to actually look and see what it is!' Honestly… sometimes it felt like he was the only competent being in the whole of Remnant.

He shook his head clear of those thoughts. They weren't going to do him any good now. Now he needed to get away with this airship, and kill that Grimm, and then see how he could turn a profit from this whole 'apocalypse' thing. Well, the ship's armory might be a good start, check and see if there was anything valuable left there. And there was probably a complete list of Atlas bases in the ship's logs, and codes for accessing them. And wasn't the General's office on this thing? There was definitely going to be something juicy in there. Maybe-

Right, focus, Grimm, Nevermore, where the FUCK WAS IT!?

Roman snarled as the Giant Nevermore, emphasis on GIANT, **somehow** continued to evade his sight and all the sensors up. Honestly it was as though it knew where to- … where to hide… Roman blinked… … Had this particular Nevermore fought Atlesian airships before? Learned where they didn't look? If it was that big then it was certainly old enough to have done so. It was old enough to be smart enough to bide its time and not ram every chance it got as well, just wait where he wasn't looking for him to let his guard down. So, okay, where wasn't he looking? … Well, up obviously, but he had two people on the roof and at least Neo would send him a message if the stupid bird was flying around up there. And the only other place he wasn't looking was…

Roman narrowed his eyes, a spark of fire in them, but at the same time a grin made its way to his lips.

"Oh you clever little black-feathered vagabond, you're just waiting to slice my stomach open aren't ya?" He asked to the theoretical Grimm as his hands sped across the controls, causing the airship to 'turn' in the air, seeming to almost spin back 180 degrees from the nose, before it tilted back and up slightly. And what did Roman see on the forward-view then? He saw the image of a giant black bird, flapping its wings miles below right over the water of Vale's bay.

"Hah! Gotcha!" Shouted Roman with glee, as his fingers moved, locked the Nevermore in his sights, and proceeded to start firing the lasers… While literally everyone on the roof of the Airship suddenly had a massive and unexpected change of plans due to the floor beneath their feet no longer being flat…

* * *

To, _Pockolypse_ : Thank you very much! And neither can I! Hopefully I'll actually GET to said fight with the next update.

To, _HHH1_ : Well this made me smile and stroked my ego both. I'm glad that you're enjoying Roman, Neo, and my humble O.C. Hope the story continues to entertain!

To, _Lord of Tuft_ : This was the first mention of the capitalization tendency, however certainly not the last! This and others made me experiment with how I emphasize things, and while I still like my sound-effects, I hope that this turned out better and flowed better.

To, _Tacosaucelord_ : Well thank you very much! I'm glad I've destroyed your expectations, though I feel compelled to ask, was there a particular reason you expected it to be sub-par that I could potentially correct for in the future?

To, _Hydroplatypus_ : You are not the only one to say so! I'm considering going back and re-editing that segment with focus on the sound effects and action scenes, and possibly even others, to correct for that. Of course, I need to know that my new methods work better than the old before I even try that, and if they don't... Well, I'm probably going to use M rated language for a bit before I try and figure out another new one.

To, _Ace of Spies_ : Thank you very much! I shall endeavor to keep it going and make it a story worthy of the great Roman Torchwick, and the adorably psychopathic Neo! Oh, and that other guy I added in, he's there to.

To, _Vertero_ : Ah, thank you, I do so love it when my character is enjoyed! And you are right, reviews do need loving criticism from time to time, and in this case it appears to be something I very much need to work on. I'm hoping that that's past tense though, and that how I'm trying to deal with sound effects now is less jarring and more enjoyable. If it's not though... well, I expect I shall hear of it in multiple reviews!

To, _Kaeralonthi Moneta_ : Ah, I'm glad you like, and indeed, one thing I can never in good faith promise is actual timeliness in my updates. It is an unfortunate combination of life and my own mind's workings. Infrequency is, unfortunately, to be expected. And I hope that the way I'm trying to approach action is better this time around, if it's not, then I'm going to have to try and work something else out entirely. If it is though, then I'm probably going to go back and actually re-edit that whole bit to make it... well, readable apparently. All part of the learning process I doth suppose. Also, I'm going to address Alabaster below.

 **On Alabaster:**

Now as to Alabaster, I'm actually going to go on about this since this seems like a good place to do it and I want to make my ideas regarding him clear, seems a rather opportune time. Alabaster is hard to find the sweet spot for. I made him for the sole purpose of being a competent henchman to Roman Torchwick, then decided to make him a character and give him a life of his own, because I viewed it as necessary. He's actually changed a bit from the original draft of his character, courtesy of Season Three, stronger than he was at first and I need to update his original sheet. The core is the same though. He's been made to help Torchwick.

The thing about him is that to be a competent helper, he needs to be a useful killer. And being a useful killer in a world populated by Huntsmen and Huntresses means being rather O.P. to most mortals. And it means that when he runs into RWBY or other teams that we know and love, he can't get bowled over in a single engagement, and needs to be at least a threat, or even kick their rears. What was one of the coolest Roman moments? Fighting off Blake and point-blank-dodging Sun's shotgun nunchucks. What was one of the most disappointing Roman moments? Him getting laid flat by Blake in a few Dust-fueled moves. And why did we love Neo after Volume Two? Because she kicked Yang's posterior from start to finish, Yang who we had seen annihilate all opponents previously, got owned completely by the little ice cream girl. Cool characters in Remnant are often good fighters, and as fighting will definitely happen, multiple times, Alabaster needs to be good at it, to do his job for Roman, and to just not be disappointing on screen.

That's not his main duty though. Neo is the strong right hand for murder and she IS better at that than Alabaster by miles. However he's better at something else, something that Roman needs. And that is going to come up as we get along in the story. Some other... surprises as well that I'll be interested to see reactions to. However the point is that while he has his own story, his own life, and his own goals beyond Roman, he is ultimately made to be a competent criminal helper for Roman Torchwick, to facilitate the building of his criminal empire. And so I need to make sure that he is impressive, but doesn't usurp the spotlight. That he supports Roman and Neo and doesn't detract from them. And so I need to make him entertaining, interesting, and capable of holding center stage... and not actually give it to him. So... he is hard, and I expect I will fail in using him properly more than once. However he has had a generally positive reception thus far, and I hope that continues, just as I hope I can use him to properly make Roman and Neo shine. Thank you for reading and any thoughts had on the character twould be appreciated!)


	5. Chapter 5: In Which Things Go Wrong

(So this isn't as long as my last chapter, might not even be as long as most of them. However I felt that 'forever' was probably not the best waiting period for a literary work, and frankly, I've made you all wait long enough. I'm trying to get myself more disciplined in my writing, and I'll see if that helps the pace. Not sure yet, however I want to make an effort…

Ah, okay, now I have something serious to talk about for a moment, and I'm sorry because this is heavy and depressing, however I need to say it because it's been happening and it's important. Not to me personally, but to other authors, and potentially to anyone who makes fan-works. RWBY watches Death Battle, RWBY React Watch Believe Yikes!, I think those were all the words, and RWBY Watches Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, have all disappeared from Fanfiction dot net. Why? A group called Critics United started targeting them, and essentially bullied them into leaving. And AO3 has, apparently, for some reason, rules against React fics… so it's not hosting them or providing it's 'legal protection' for them, as the author of RWBY Watches Jojo has confirmed in his latest posting on that site, informing that his story is apparently against the rules and he'll have to remove it. Considering AO3s many words stating their devotion to protecting fan-works, and recent fundraiser for their legal team, I have to say that I'm feeling somewhat… betrayed by these apparent rules. And angry. Angry at them, angry at Fanfiction dot net, angry at Critics United, and angry at pettiness in general.

Now, I'm not sure where these fics will wind up… I have hope that the authors won't just let them die. However that this has happened is evidence of something ugly and stupid and apparently true. Evidence that one group with a chip on it's shoulder can get rid of old, highly followed, well-beloved, and frequently favorited fanfics, because they don't like it. Because they 'disagree' with it and are extremely particular about what they believe are this site's rules. I disagree with what I've seen of their interpretation, and DEFINITELY disagree with what I saw happening in the comments of RWBY Watches Death Battle after one of their members left a review, the deluge of people with nothing better to do but insult someone who took so much time and effort to make something for us to love... What they've done and apparently been doing fills me with disgust… …

Anyways, what I'm saying is that this is writing on the wall. When one group can do that, then that means no fanwork is safe on this site. Just because works like mine haven't been targeted doesn't mean that they won't be. It doesn't mean that major, long-standing, well-beloved works with hordes of follows and favorites won't be. And while I'll likely post a copy up on AO3, I no longer trust them either to host my fanfiction safely, for the reasoning mentioned above. So if you could share any other fanwork hosting sites, or ideas for 'safe' places to host fanworks and fanfictions, please inform me. I don't want to see more fanfictions thrown to the wind because of some people who apparently have nothing better to do with their lives than harass creators.

And now that this informative segment and rant is done… I actually recommend you take a moment to deep-breathe and/or get something to drink like I'm doing… … Okay, okay... peaceful river, happy thoughts, my favorite soda... alright. NOW… on to the story.)

* * *

Neo loved Roman Torchwick. She did. She had known that she loved him since the very first time she'd laid eyes on him, years ago. She hadn't even tried to deny her feelings, to herself at least, the sudden blooming of unfamiliar emotions inside of her. They were too clear and overpowering to be rejected, and really, were actually incredibly enjoyable most of the time. And as the years went on, and Roman provided adventure after adventure for the little ice cream girl, those feelings only grew stronger, and more intense. Her love for him bloomed, her love for the only person in the whole of Remnant that she actually cared about, ever increasing.

She was loyal to Roman in a way that she would never be loyal to anyone else, beyond just hired help, beyond just his strong right hand. She loved the arrogant, self-centered, cocky son of a bitch more than probably even he realized, and with every ounce of her heart and all the breath in her body. She would do anything for him. Gladly sacrifice of herself for him. Had already done so much more for him than he would ever realize. And if it came down to it? She would die for him.

With all that said, she was going to fucking kill him when she got back in the ship.

Now she didn't know if Roman had forgotten that they were **on top of the fucking ship** or what, but when he did his deep angle down, Neo suddenly found herself doing what most people would do when the floor beneath them shifted from flat to a steep diagonal. Namely, sliding. To her doom in a drop off the ship.

Neo's eyes went wide as her heels started to drag, and in an act of quick thinking, she slipped the sword out of her umbrella, and _plunged_ it into the metal of the airship, kneeling down and gripping it tightly to, well, not fall to a drowning death in the bay of Vale as the abrupt angle completed its tilt.

Her would-be opponents, eyes widening as they to suddenly became the victims of gravity, also started to slide. Captain Oakwood, seeing Neo's sword plunge, blatantly stole her idea as he stabbed his own sword into the metal of the airship, piercing deep, and held his left arm out, Ciel catching onto it and pulling herself close to him. They both crouched down then, trying to keep themselves from sliding and close to the sword, as the ship tilted down and stayed tilted.

And there soldier, student, and assassin stayed, down near the edge of the ship, blades dug in to keep them from sliding and falling, as beams of red **flashed** out and lit up the sky, the beams tinting everything bloody red for a moment as they went straight down towards the Giant Nevermore… and struck the water as the Nevermore's wings flapped backwards, just barely avoiding the attack, while jets of hot steam burst up from the liquid where the laser beams hit.

* * *

"Oh no you don't!" Shouted Roman inside of the cockpit, jamming his finger on another button as the airship, still tilted down, retargeted the evading Nevermore.

"Let's see you dodge this!" He continued, pushing another button on the panel, causing the slotted 'death sphere' launchers of the Airship to 'hiss' open at either side again, and launch their targeting spheres, red balls of individually tracking death launching down towards the big black-feathered monster.

The Nevermore, in response, 'CAWED'! in aggravation, before giving its wings a mighty flap and _shot_ straight up, rising up high as the spheres went down towards it, following it up into the sky, before it 'flapped' back through the air, did a turn mid-air, and dove straight down into the ocean water, a might thundering **splash** accompanying its movements, as the red spheres followed… and burst into fire against the surface, coating the surface of the water with burning fire-Dust, giving a hint as to the make-up of the Spheres, but dispersing non-explosively against the liquid.

"I didn't actually mean it you oversized feather-factory!" Shouted Roman in frustration, as he 'pulled' back with the airship, and kept it tilted, even pushing it down a little further, eyes scanning the water now alight with flames… as the people on the top of his airship continued to deal with his choice of angling.

* * *

Alabaster was… disappointed. Yes, that was a good word for it. Disappointed, with how things had developed.

The initial stage of his encounter had gone to perfection, with the Troopers aiming and firing at him from two curved arches, only to find their efforts completely futile. After all, Alabaster had already judged their positioning, noted their aims, and interpreted their angles of fire in his introductory 360 degree turn. And he had taken all of this information, and thus come up with the perfect counter to his opponent's combat formation. Ballet.

Yes, ballet. Or Battler-Ballet, as he had once internally dubbed it. Graceful steps, accompanied by elegant rising arm movements blocked shots with his tonfa. Gentle 'leaps' turned into dodges as he glided away from where soldiers aimed, only to find their weapons already firing and the bullets hitting their allies across the way. Rapid tip-toe steps 'dodged' shots aimed at his feet, and graceful bows let bullets fly over his head to strike either air, or other Troopers, both perfectly fine with the pale hireling. His favorites though where the pirouettes, where he carried himself from one side of the line to the other, spinning on the toe of a single foot as his tonfa came together, and only 'blurred' out to block errant, nearing shots, the hireling building momentum with his pirouettes as he prepared to enter the 'attack' stage of his little performance.

It was more than a little enjoyable for him, getting to dance like this, as he twirled and stepped, and got his opponents to misplace their shots into one another. In a way, he was thankful that they'd taken the formation they did, so as to make this the most efficient way to soften them up and keep them distracted while Miss Neopolitan had her fun. He was on the clock after all, so if there had been a better, more useful way to accomplish his goals and keep them focused on him, he would have had to take that way instead. But this situation allowed him to enjoy himself, relax a little, and let the soldiers see his grace, style, and poise while they tried to kill him. He doubted that they appreciated any of those things just at the moment.

"Ah!"

"Gah!"

"Ugh! Damnit hold sti- Agh!"

Their training had never covered a situation quite like this, and unlike more experienced soldiers, they lacked the confidence to divert from their training to use methods more effective for the situation. Atlas's troopers weren't good at changing tactics regardless of their experience, something that Alabaster had learned quite some time ago now. As a result, their discipline was breaking, and they were experiencing confusion, fear, and pain in equal measures. Confusion as to why he was dancing rather than fighting, fear as to how it was working, and pain at the part where their bullets were hitting each other instead of him. Only their aura and armor had kept them alive from their own fire. And it was nearing the point where Alabaster would go about changing that with a lovely pirouette kick…

But alas, it was not to be. Something happened before Alabaster could do that and start to get to the killing part. Something signaled by the changing of their cries to-

"Agh!"

"O-oh Dust!"

"No!"

"Ahhhhhh!"

The hireling stopped in the middle of his latest long pirouette, balanced on the toe of his right foot with his left leg up and Night Clubs touched together at his center, to see that the entire ship had suddenly gone into a tilt. And the soldiers who were formerly shooting at him, and thus each other, were now scrambling for grips as they began falling to their doom down the end of the ship.

Alabaster blinked, then sighed, stepping out of ballet form to place both his feet together, flat to the metal, and bring his hands behind his back, tonfa flipped so their shafts went up the length of his back and were hidden from front-view sight, more out of habit in this case than anything else. Calmly, he channeled his aura into the soles of his shoes to activate the Air Dust in the soles, and the Dust within began to 'suck' him to the surface of the ship, air pulling from the soles. His balance was incredible, but he doubted that even he could keep it when the drop was getting this sheer, without that extra bit of Dust-based aid.

And so he stood, waiting, calmly… as gravity did his work for him and the soldiers of Atlas made their slide to burning watery oblivion. Physics proved their laws as the soldiers fell, trying to claw and pull at the surface of the ship as they slipped and slid. The one who had been back behind Alabaster when their fall started were having a bit more luck in that regard. The ones who had been in front and thus further down on the airship? Well… they were finding their hands, feet, and entire bodies separating from the surface of the ship, and their forms going from slipping, to plummeting, straight down towards their dooms, tumbling through the air to the water, still set alight with fire by Torchwick's spheres.

When the first soldiers hit the burning water their screams were surprisingly audible. Alabaster wasn't sure whether to be impressed with their lung strength, or with his hearing. Regardless, it was fairly apparent that falling into a patch of flaming ocean was quite painful, if the screeching was anything to go by. Alabaster had to kind of sigh at it though, furrowing his brows and looking with a dull 'really?' look directed towards the watery pyre. The only bit of fun he'd get to have up here and the whole thing was working itself out already. How very anticlimactic.

Even as the hireling was bemoaning the sudden cessation of his enjoyment however, one of the soldiers from the firing arch behind him, early enough in his sliding, had the good sense to let go of his rifle, let it fall away from him, and pull out his sword and stab it into the surface of the airship, several feet down from the hireling. He hadn't seen Neopolitan and the Captain down at the other end of the ship, so this was less emulation, and more actual inventiveness on the young man's part. He wasn't quite as strong as the Captain, or nearly as strong as Neopolitan, but his blade was impressively high-tech, and seemed to do the trick, digging in enough to slow his descent, then bring him to a stop as it 'skreeched' against the metal.

Three other troopers lucky enough to be falling from further up than him, seeing his method apparently working, discarded their own rifles to pull out their blades and dig them into the hull of the ship. A fourth had the idea to holster his rifle at his back before pulling out the blade, and coming to a dragging halt, a little behind the others.

Alabaster looked down at this display with his right eyebrow raised and a slightly appreciative look on his face. That was very quick thinking on the part of the soldier who'd made the stab. And when that soldier looked up, face and eyes obscured, but a growl on his lips and a glare through his visor, Alabaster could see that he had a defiant spirit in addition to a quick mind. It was that defiant spirit that saw said soldier reaching with his left hand to his side-arm and pulling it out, the other soldiers stuck in on the surface of the ship getting the idea and drawing their side-arms, aiming them upwards towards Alabaster.

The pale hireling couldn't help but let the right side of his mouth curl up into a smirk at that. This young man, whoever he was, lacked the technical skills to face him. But not the spirit or inventiveness, and through both had not only helped himself remain in the fight, but others as well. Alabaster would have to thank him for that, before killing him.

Of course, although these notable and currently fortunate troopers had had the quick thinking and sense to plunge their short swords into the surface of the ship, quite a few hadn't been so lucky, as Alabaster had addressed earlier. And that number that had separated with the ship and fallen, down towards the burning ocean below, did so past a certain trio who were still stuck down near the end of the ship.

That trio had to deal with the plummeting soldiers, falling past them down to their deaths in burning water. The troopers, by the time they got to that point, were soaring over the heads of, and far to the left and right of, the three temporarily paused combatants on the end of the ship, well out of reach for any rescue attempts from their blade-dug positions. As the troopers fell past and hit the burning water, their screams carried up, and while they were audible at Alabaster's level, they were almost deafening that close to the tip of the ship. For Ciel Soleil and Captain Oakwood, it was a stomach-churning experience, as they watched the men die, unable to move to try and rescue them without falling themselves, and heard the cries of young, inexperienced soldiers as they died in fire. It made Ciel want to puke. And Oakwood? He felt a knot in his stomach that was so damn guilty, he almost did.

As for Neo, she was almost grinning her head off, silent laughter shaking her shoulders. It was absolutely hilarious watching the troopers fall through the air, twisting and turning, limbs flailing like ragdolls tossed off the edge of a cliff! And those screams! They were wonderful, so filled with pain and terror, she swore she could almost hear the fire crackling against their skin! And whenever they went silent, she could actually envision it being because they got sucked under the water by their armor to drown while their skin was still on fire from the dispersed Fire Dust. It was marvelous! It brought a sparkle to her, currently pink and brown, eyes and she couldn't help but turn to peek, catching glimpses of the soldiers flailing in fire-covered water… It was almost enjoyable enough for her to forgive Roman for tilting the ship. Almost. Maybe she could convince him to do something like this again, with less tilting and more tossing people overboard. They could have a romantic dinner and just… snuggle over the burning patch of water watching goons toss people into a lit sea… What a magical evening that would be…

As Neo contemplated her ideal romantic outing with Roman, Ciel Soleil turned her wide-eyed view from watching the soldiers, her comrades, fall to painful deaths, to the grin that was on Neo's face, and the light of joy that was in her eyes. When the student of Atlas, one of the highest ranked potential Huntresses in her class, saw that one of the many emotions she had worked constantly for her whole life to suppress inside of herself rose inside of her. It cracked her guards, shattered her inhibitions, and boiled its way straight up to the surface. Rage. Blind, hot, burning rage.

Gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes as they flashed with a fierce golden light, Ciel steadied herself against the Captain's arm, gripping it tighter with her right hand, as she lifted up her left arm up to point towards the ice-cream girl, fingers in a 'claw' with the tips pointed towards Neo. The symbol on her forehead began to glow along with her eyes, shining as every golden stud in her outfit started to shine as well, and a set of five small golden balls formed on the tips of her fingers, tiny suns, balanced on each.

Suddenly, all that energy seemed to 'funnel' into her left hand. It happened in an instant, barely a second of actual time passing, but the truly quick-sighted would have been able to note her forehead ceased it's glowing only for her eyes to glow brighter, then her eyes to stop glowing, only for her top sleeve-studs to glow brighter, and so on, the light shining brighter for the next section up as it stopped shining further up, from every direction, all the way to her hand, where suddenly the five small golden balls doubled in size, and quintupled in brilliance, a ferocious golden light shining from Ciel's fingers.

That caught Neo's attention, the light catching the corners of her eye, before she turned to look at the source of said light… just in time to see the balls 'burst' from Ciel's fingers and streak through the air straight towards the ice-cream girl. Her heterochromatic eyes went wide, turning a unified white at the same time, and she quickly swung her detached umbrella forward and 'popped' it open, just in time to take the strikes from the balls as they connected together when reaching her, forming one big sun.

 **BOOOOOM**

 _Shatter_

The explosion turned light to fire and flame, red and orange burst outwards from the strike point in every direction, and the backblast of the heat could be felt by both Ciel, and Captain Oakwood, who gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut against it. He knew that those with Hunter and Huntress training were impressive, but damn! That could have blown a hole in the roof of the airship!

And if it had been a direct strike against the metal, it probably would have. But as it was, the surface of the airship around where the energy ball had struck Neo's opened umbrella had just been scorched black and partially melted, as was evidenced when the fiery smoke cleared to reveal… a complete absence of Neopolitan. Ciel blinked, then narrowed her eyes. That wasn't right. As strong as that had been, that shouldn't have been enough to obliterate Neopolitan completely by any stretch of the imagination. Could she have dod-

Whatever else Ciel was going to think was stopped as a high-heeled boot planted into the back of her, and Captain Oakwood's heads, rattling both their brains, loosening their grips, and sending them tumbling down the ship towards the burning water beneath it. All with Neopolitan, who had used her mirror-shatter defense to reposition herself up further along the ship and just let herself 'tumble' in a fall downwards until she planted her boots on the back of both Atlesian's heads, looking rather pleased with herself.

The ice-cream girl's feet moved quickly after the double-strike to 'catch' the blade of Captain Oakwood's sword with her heels, balancing her feet on the weapon as she stood up straight, standing with her right side to the ship, and brought her closed parasol up to rest on her right shoulder, sword-handle back safe and snug in the weapon, left hand moving to rest on her hip as she looked down and smirked at the falling pair. Yes, she wanted to milk more fun out of them before she killed them, but she was sending them to a satisfyingly painful death. And it was always fun when her enemies practically handed her the keys to their own destruction.

* * *

"Come on come on, where are you, you washed up piece of avian filth!?" Asked Roman angrily, scanning the water with his eyes, sensor displays showing him the now decidedly turbulent surface of the water, the section lit on fire 'spreading' out on top of the waves, the undiffused Fire Dust particles drifting out from the sphere impact zones, still burning.

His eyes continued to scan, carefully, his visible orb narrowing as he kept watching the water… only to spot a black shape forming beneath the waves at a spot next away from the burning. A shape that **burst** out of the water with another great 'CAW!' flapping up out of the bay and straight into the front end of the airship from below and **smacking** it hard with its bone protected head, and sending violent vibrations through the whole ship as the end went from tilted down, to tilted way too up for comfort, and the Nevermourned shooting up past the ship it'd just knocked, into the sky. Leaving Roman stumbling back away from the console onto his exterior, and giving everyone on top of the airship, a brand new problem.

* * *

The end of the airship rose up and 'smacked' into the falling forms of Ciel and Captain Oakwood, hitting their auras and increasing their headaches, as they suddenly found metal beneath them again. Neo, for her part, went wide-eyed once more as the whole airship shook, and tilted back in the entire other freaking direction, essentially not only shaking her, but putting her on the wrong end of the sword she was using to balance.

Naturally, she fell. And just as naturally, she 'flipped' her umbrella around, darted up with the hook, caught the hilt of the stuck sword, and 'swung' herself up into a crouch back on the blade, once again with her heels catching it and using it to help keep her balance. She then turned her gaze up with narrowed eyes, looking with annoyance at the pair of Atlesians who were now sliding back down towards her, AND the Nevermore as it rose into the sky over the ship now tilted for falling in the 'other' direction. The one that wouldn't quite lead it to terrifying doom in a burning watery grave, but could send one smacking into the slightly larger portion of the ship, and/or the bridge, if they weren't careful. Or more accurately in this case, lucky.

She focused her vision down from the Nevermore though, on the Captain and the Student as they started to rise to their feet on the downward slope, the ship already starting to tilt back forward slightly as its own stabilizers went into effect, letting them keep their balance easier as they started to use their moment to head down towards her with less disoriented stumbling, and more murderous purpose. Neo smirked again, eyes glinting dangerously as she brought her parasol up to rest between her hands, left hand gripping near the end while his right moved to tighten near the center. Time for round two…

* * *

To, _Acerman_ : Thank you, though I have to admit I thought that it would be Beacon that got saved in the end and Vale would be occupied by hostile forces and the girls would have to work over the next season to get it back using Beacon as a base and the students and incoming Hunters and Huntresses as a fighting force... definitely not the direction they went in. The one they did go in, hit me like a punch to the heart and gut followed by some smacks to the feels. We'll see what happens in this world though.

To, _Zhalo Shadowcell_ : Soon is a relative term. But it's updated now! Sooooooo yay! And stuffs... hope that kinda sorta maybe counts.

To, _Janus_ : Ohhhh, thank you! Reviews like yours make me grin! And I hope the story stays enjoyable for you and brings further smiles and, if not gushes, pleasant feelings and thoughts.


End file.
